Highly Unlikely
by Diamond Jedi
Summary: Eight months after Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she does not expect. A Ryro paring.
1. Chapter I

Summary: Eight months after Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect. Ryro Pairing.

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men.

Author's Note: Rewritten with major editing.

* * *

Chapter I

_Rogue's Point of View:_

I sat quietly on the curb, never moving an inch from where the police officer had planted me. Stationary, oblivious to the mayhem overrunning the city streets with police units, paramedics and the media, I stared at my hand. What was supposed to be dripped in blood was clean and free of the substance that declared my own mortality. I couldn't imagine how such an occurrence had come about. And I didn't want to think about it. Thinking gave rise to old fears that had haunted me long before I had taken 'The Cure' to rid myself of my mutation.

I gripped the blanket and brought the edges tightly around me as whispers began to assault my eardrums. Co-workers, acquaintances and life-time devotees to the First National Bank stood in the far ground trying to make sense of the madness that had struck hours earlier. It was an attempted heist gone terribly wrong, although no one was hurt, everyone was still reeling from the effects. Everyone except me. I didn't want to be reminded of the incident within the financial building. I wanted to escape. To head home and forget what had transpired.

"She was shot," I heard one of them say and turned ever so slightly.

A wealth of eyes bombarded me and I huddled inside the heavy, coarse, blanket to escape the inquisitive, fretful expressions on their faces. My hand slid across the lower part of belly, grazing my blouse which had been shredded and singed from the gun fire. A trembling finger poked the four holes resting against smooth skin. I shivered in great alarm. Thoughts overrun my mind with images of a fateful second that narrowly had me close to the gates of some alternate world or heaven. Instead, I was sitting on the corner of First and Third Avenue trying to decipher how and why I was still alive.

A stream of murmurs ensnared my attention again. I knew what those standing behind me were pondering at this moment. Mutant. Freak. A threat to society. I heard it all before. Seen it. Lived it. It was one of the reasons I had taken 'The Cure'. I wanted to save myself from a life of persecution and injustice. Some would call it the coward's way out, but I grew tired of the difficulties that came in life. And I got tired of my skin. I got tired of never being able to feel or touch without regret or apprehension. I got tired of not being able to truly live.

Weary of the conversation swelling behind me, the distance, the eyes pressing into the small of my back, I rose and turned to glance behind me one more time. A police officer was questioning a group of people. I met the eyes of a thirty-two year old woman; her countenance blackened as she looked me over with a dark animosity and pulled her two small crying children closer.

"It was a two man team," a man said and others nodded, corroborating with his story. "She was shot."

The officer rotated his body and directed his eyes at me. His dark eyes trailed down the length of my figure before settling on my face again. A frown intensified his heavyset face and leathery skin. He seemed unsure of his approach as he tucked his pen and note pad into his shirt pocket. Old fears renewed their spirits when I noticed one of my colleagues mouth the word mutant. It was then I turned and fled into the chaotic disorder flooding the streets.

"Hey, miss wait!"

I heard him calling after me but didn't stop. I weaved through two police cars and disappeared behind a large fire truck. Ahead of me, a host of people stood on the sidewalk observing the traumatic spectacle. I dove into the crowd and felt safe momentarily till I heard the officer forceful command that I stop. I didn't. I wanted to get out of there and head home. Thrusting deeper into the crowd, I bumped shoulders with someone of medium height, and staggered backwards.

"Hey, watch it!" The person she collided shoulders with bellowed.

Disbelief flooded into me. The voice was familiar. Too familiar. It hit me with a garish attitude I had not heard since the X-Mansion. I turned and sought out the bearer of the voice and locked with two steel, cold eyes. They stared at me in a mild hostility. I focused to take in his whole face. My mouth fell open.

St. John! Pyro?

I thought he was dead; a victim of Jean's explosives powers that had leveled Alcatraz to a pile of rubble. Bobby had told me John had perished. Surprisingly, I was deeply saddened by his lost. Once upon a time we were friends, a threesome like the three Musketeers. Yet inevitably we were divided by ideals that thrust us on different paths.

"P-Pyro?" I said softly so none other could hear.

He blinked. His azure eyes scratched the surface of my face, turning harsh and cold in recognition before relaxing into a confused air. "Who? I'm sorry but you must got the wrong guy, lady."

I drew back, perplexed. "John, it's me. R-Rogue."

His face grew stern then traveled past my face to the eye the cop coming toward me. "You have me mistaken for someone else." He said loud enough for the officer coming up behind her and people in the vicinity to hear.

"John—" I said irritation evident in my voice.

"Thanks," the officer said. He bent over wheezing, struggling to catch his breath. His corpulent size added to strain on his heart as his fat belly rose and fell with each intake of breath. He tipped his head to the group he had left behind. "They said you were injured. I need to escort you to the paramedics."

"Oh, that won't be necessary officer," I replied, my accent growing heavier as the tension within me mounted.

He dimmed his eyes on me. "I have to be certain miss."

"There's no need." I swept my right hand over my chest to show no harm had befallen me. I noticed the look in John's eyes and the doubt glimmering in the overweight officer.

"That may be," he said wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "It's procedure to have you taken down the emergency room plus some detectives would like to take your statement."

I became impatient. So impatient I literally wanted to stamp my feet. "Is this truly necessary?"

"Yes," he frowned.

"Lead the way."

I surrendered and followed him to the nearest ambulance where a female paramedic came to assist me. I climbed into the back of the vehicle and sat on a gurney. There I searched the crowd for John. He was gone.

()()()()

I had an enormous amount of sick days. Why the hell didn't I use them? If I had I wouldn't have suffered the indignity of being belittled by an arrogant doctor or questioned as if I were a criminal by two detectives. What made matters worse? The nurse had been unable to take samples of my blood because the needles broke each time she poked my skin. Her apathetic manner reduced to a natural phobia everyone undertook when they were afraid of something that was different or misunderstood.

I was soon herded out of the hospital—once they realized I was a mutant—so that I wouldn't upset the other patients and staff members. Upset? Gritting my teeth, I stuck my key into the door of my apartment and entered. Closing the door, I leaned into the hard surface and took three deep breaths to slow my thundering heart. Upset! I'm the one who should be up. I was treated like monster because I bore one extra gene. And I was peeved about this substance Worthington Labs had the nerve to call a 'Cure'.

A 'Cure' to what?

It was supposed to vanquish the mutation that had held my life hostage. So what was taking shape beneath the layers of flesh and bone? I faced a small mirror hanging on the door to my left and trembled. I was changing right before my eyes and didn't know what to anticipate next or how to stop it. It was at this moment I wished for the Professor's counsel. He would always have a logical reason for things that were unexplainable, things that were beyond my control. But the Professor was dead along with two other formidable members of the X-Men. Lives lost all because of 'The Cure'.

Tears brim the edge of my lashes but I fought them. It made me yearn for the comfort of another and the motive for journeying three thousand miles to San Francisco to live. I was still clueless to the grounds on why I had chosen the focal point a furious standoff between mutants and humanity. I could have chosen Seattle, Washington but it rained too often. I would never have a good hair day. Nevada was way too hot and L.A. was far too expensive. In truth I flipped a coin. I was either Sacramento or San Francisco; the city meant nothing to me but a place of residence.

Besides, it was the distance I desired. I wanted as much land between me and Bobby Drake as humanly possible. Also, I didn't speak another language so leaving the country was out of the question. Pain squeezed my chest and I flinched. Eight months and I was still thinking about him. I was still shaken and hurt. When I expressed doubt on the choice I had made to take 'The Cure' his response foretold his aims and purposes. To Bobby Drake, I was unconquered vessel, and 'The Cure' had finally given him liberties that could have never occurred formerly in our relationship.

I slammed my fist on the door and pushed away from it. Storming to my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes and walked into the bathroom. I crawled out my clothes and jumped into the shower, lingering for nearly an hour. I came out and dressed in pink pajamas and pulled on my slippers. A ravenous hunger gripped my stomach. I hadn't eaten since lunch which was a mandarin chicken salad from Wendy's and that was it. Opening the refrigerator door I scanned measly the contents within and settled for left over Chinese tucked in the far corner.

"I need to go shopping," I said and popped the item into the microwave.

I then went into the living room and turned on the news. Surprise. Surprise. The robbery was on several new stations including video images from inside the bank. I dropped into my sofa when I saw myself being assaulted by the second gunmen. His partner—on the other hand—was terrified. I could see it in his eyes. I thought I could reason with him, which was why I foolishly came away from my post to implore him to put down the gun. Instead, four shots hammered me and I fell not in pain but fright.

Disgusted, I watched the replay before rising to retrieve my dinner. I shared it onto a plate and on my way back to the couch I pressed the answering machine. Over a dozen messages flashed wildly. The first was Jubilee's squawking nervously on the other line. Two others were Kitty and Siyrn. I made a mental note to return their calls once I had finished eating.

The fourth was Logan and I smiled warmly when he demanded I return home. His concern was earnest and sweet. I would be lying to myself if I didn't acknowledge the feelings I held for him. It was love. But it was strictly platonic, not romantic. True, I once had a crush on once him and he played a part in a few vivid nighttime fantasies. However, as time went by, the feelings changed to friendship and adoration. Logan filled the void my real father abandoned. He was a protector and true companion.

Ororo Munroe graced the voice box next then several others whose names I had forgotten. I was surprised to hear my manager call and say the work was suspended till further notice. I smirked. It took heaven and earth to ask that man for a day off and here he was telling us to take a break. I would have laugh if the situation hadn't been serious. He gave me several contact numbers including a therapist.

"Nice," I frowned and munched on an egg roll.

Beep. Beep. The machine played its final message.

"Hey Rogue? It's me. I know you said you never wanted to speak to me again, but I had to call and see if you were okay."

I almost choked. Bobby! How the hell did he get this number? Who gave it to him for that matter? Frozen, I listened to his sorry appeal.

"Rogue, please," he sighed. "Call me. I need to speak to you."

I rose and marched towards the answering machine. My heart raced with each step.

"Rogue. I miss—"

Deleted.

I couldn't hear anymore. I didn't want to listen to his excuses or be swayed by his words. I wanted to forget about him and move on. I returned to the couch. A strange coldness raced through my body. I sat quietly for a while and stared haunted at the TV screen. I felt a single tear slip down my cheek and seethed angrily. Wiping my face, I picked up the remote and surfed through the channels, dead set on forgetting Bobby Drake.

A meteorologist on the Weather Channel reported a severe thunderstorm set to happen later in the evening. Completing my meal, I placed the plate on the floor and lay back on the couch, pulling a woolen blanket across my legs. I continued flipping the channels then landed on the Soap Net, a station that recycled the morning soaps, and got comfortable. I was grateful such a channel existed that way I could watch the Young and the Restless without missing a beat.

I awoke to darkness and heavy rainfall drumming my windows. I leaned over and tried to turn on my lamp but it didn't work. Panic seized me and I shot upwards in couch. It was so dark I could barely see my hand in front my face. Slowly rising, I staggered to the window. Darkness shrouded a three block radius of neighborhood. A good distance away, I could see a street lights breaking into the darkness and sighed. Power outage. Wonderful. Ever careful I crossed the living room to my bedroom, remembering I kept a flash light in one of the nightstands. I found it and flicked it on glad to have some light. I flashed it on the clock on the wall. It was one-thirty.

Balancing the flashlight on the dresser, I started to take the quilt and decorated pillows off my bed when I heard a noise that startled me. Frozen stiff, I listened for a moment but heard nothing, only the pounding rain and thunder clapping in the darkness. I brushed the noise aside as an aftermath of the turbulent storm outside and resumed getting ready for bed. The noise came again; a strange scratching and bumping against my veranda door. Hesitant, I walked slowly to the door and thrust it open. Rain water poured inside.

"Who's there?" I called out, using the flashlight to scan the darkness. I screamed when something moved and pinned the light on a black cat hunkered in the shadows. "Hey," I said, sighing in relief. "How in the world did you get all the way up here?" The animal crouched low and hissed. "Don't be frightened." I scooped the animal up and held it close. It was shivering and wet and I felt sorry for it. "Poor thing." I carried it inside. I got a towel and dried it off. "Want some milk?" I asked it once it was warm and dry. "Sorry but I have no cat food so tuna fish will have to do."

In the darkness I retrieved the items and put them in two small bowls for the feline. I watched it eat and smiled, curious as to how the creature had gotten all the way up to my apartment, particularly when the only fire exit was the staircase located inside my apartment building. "I bet you have a family somewhere," I said. "Someone who might be missing you." Mystical green-yellow eyes rose to mine. "No, me too, no one is missing me either. At least not my parents." I swallowed, the anguish bubbling inside and sniffed. "Well enjoy and I'll see what to do about you tomorrow." I left the animal to its feast and went to bed.

I awoke the next morning to a wet sensation on my face and startled. "Hey," I laughed, spying the cat resting on my chest. "Either you're hungry or looking for attention." I climbed out bed and went to bathroom to take a shower and brush my teeth. Wearing fresh clothes, I went to the kitchen to see about breakfast. Unfortunately, the power had not returned.

"Great." I huffed and slammed cupboard doors closed. I looked down at the feline sitting beside me, twitching its tail. "Looks like its milk and tuna for you again and Denny's for me." Assured the cat had enough to last, I grabbed my purse and jacket, and also decided this was the day I was going to stock up on groceries.

I took a cab to a Denny's I knew that was close by and had a hearty breakfast. Afterwards, I took in a little shopping before going to the supermarket. It was three p.m. when I finally came home to an angry little feline meowing at the door. "Well," I said dumping my bags on the kitchen counter after I put the closed I had purchased on the bed. "Getting comfortable aren't we. I should have known. Feed them twice and they don't want to leave. Well, don't worry. I got you enough food to last about a week or so. You're on probation. I'm still deciding whether or not I want to keep you." I fixed the inquisitive cat some food and watched it eat. "I think I'll call you Ebony, regardless if you're male or female. With your black shinny coat it fits you." I was happy to see the power had returned and prepared my own lunch.

I went into the living room and sat on the couch ready to watch some TV. To my dismay I received snow on all the channels. "Great," I scoffed and tossed the remote aside. I guess it was to the movies tonight. Before heading out, I kept my promise and called everyone who had left a message on my answering machine. Everyone except Bobby. I made it a point never to speak to him and I wasn't going back on that promise.

()()()()

Two days passed and when the cable had not been restored I notified the company. They were deeply sorry for the trouble and claimed the storm had knocked out many systems and would send someone to restore it within two to three days. Glorious. Another it would be a week almost before I saw TV again. Not that it troubled me but since I was not to return to work until further notice, it did put a damper on the afternoons when I really had nothing to do. I would have to find ways to make the time pass. Just so, I went to the public library, and for the first time in almost five years got a library card.

"Cable guy," came a voice after the doorbell rang.

I lowered the book I was reading and stared eyes wide. "They're early," I said to myself one afternoon and got up to open the door for them. Naturally, I was expecting to suffer two more days before anyone arrived to fix my cable. I removed the chain and turned the latch and stood paralyzed in horror once I pulled the door open.

"Marie D'Ancanto. So, you do have a name after all."

"John," I gasped, completely stupefied.

He was in a blue and white uniform and a cap with the company insignia printed and name plate pinned on shirt. He stared grimly at me. "You gonna let me in or what?"

"You're a cable repair man?"

"Like it's hard," he scoffed. "You take the course. You pass the test. How fucking difficult is that?" I made a face. Same ole John, not even a dress code and a job had changed him. He was still a harden rebel, pessimistic ass, with a snide tongue to match. "Look Marie," he checked his watch. "I'm press for time here. You want your service restored or not?"

I stepped aside and widened the door. He walked into my apartment with a confident swagger that left me shaking my head. Indeed, he hadn't changed.

"Nice digs," he said complimenting my household.

"Thanks," I replied, somewhat nervous he was in my home, shocked he was even alive.

"I live in a one room rat's nest on the on the east side." He scoffed.

"Bummer," I said absently, folding my arms over my chest. I closed the door. "Can we get this over with?"

He regarded me and smiled. "Already want me gone huh?"

"You're here to work John." I said. "This is not a reunion. Don't expect me to be cordial, especially after you deserted us to join the Brotherhood."

"What's wrong with following an ideal? What's wrong with the ideal of mutant liberation or do you want to be treated like parasite for the rest of your life. But I'm not surprise you're literally a bloodsucking leech." He saw a flash of hurt emerge in her eyes and grinned.

"Go to hell, John," I spat, rigid with anger. I shied away to dry the tears from my eyes. "I don't want to argue with you John. Just repair the cable and go."

I whirled around and headed for the kitchen, wanting to escape his cruel gaze, twisted philosophy and unquestionable anger. He always seemed to get a rise out of me. Even at the mansion he always managed to work my nerves and frustrate the hell out me. It was strange to think about. I admit he had a flare that made him alluring and it tempted a part of me I kept suppressed and hidden. I don't know why. I guess I was afraid of that sort of freedom. I couldn't risk reveling in its nature where my skin was concerned. Perhaps that was the reason I was dated Bobby. He was safe. He was responsible. He was sensible. Nevertheless, there was a time I was drawn to John's alluring psychedelic appeal.

I crept out of the kitchen once I had put the dishes away and watched him work. He unloaded several electrical instruments and placed them on the floor. He rose to his feet and turned the box so the back faced front and inserted a gauge into a slot then turned on the TV and box. He frowned and removed the gauge and shut off the TV and system. He proceeded to open the cable box and inspect its internal mechanism. I must say I was deeply impressed by how attuned to his task he was. As I watched him I grew curious, questions coming to mind.

"I—I thought—you—they told me—you were—dead."

"Who told you? Bobby? Yeah," he snorted. "I bet he did."

I stepped to him. "Alcatraz was completely destroyed John."

"I was lucky," he said impatiently as he worked. "I don't know how but I was. I woke up six weeks later in a hospital and they told me I was the only survivor."

"Oh," I exhaled.

He looked up at me. "Then those bastards, figuring I was a mutant and wanting to play it safe, they gave me what they had of that fucking 'Cure'."

"What?" I cried.

"Yeah," he said, his mouth twisted bitterly. "Exactly what I said."

It was one thing to take 'The Cure' by choice, another to have it administered without consent. It was a violation of rights and civil liberties. I cringed. Although, I had doubts and regretted taking the Cure. John's case felt like absolute rape. I could understand why he didn't want to be referred to as Pyro. He wasn't Pyro anymore.

"So, where's Bobby? You two shacking up. Never did thank him for that little stunt he pulled." He grumbled reminded of the nasty bump on the head. Yet he had to give him his due. When came to war fighting dirty sometimes went with the territory. Though he must say it was something he never expected from Bobby.

"He's not here. He's back in Westchester aiding Miss Munroe with the school, finishing college there, blah blah blah, why do you care?"

He shrugged. "I don't. I'm just surprised he's not glued to your side. I figured where you go, he would be there that's all."

"We're not together anymore."

"Really," he said looking me over. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I snapped, folding my arms. "Look, just finish your job then leave." I spun around and headed to the kitchen again.

"Alright," he fired. "Don't get all bitchy because Bobby dumped you."

I felt as if he had slapped me in the face and spun around fuming. "You asshole."

"I never denied it," he laughed.

I wanted to kill him and would have choked him to death if the Death Penalty wasn't so enforced in this state. Pacing the kitchen I tried to bank down the rage splitting me in two. How could he be so callus? Why do I always let him get to me? Leaning against the sink, I took deep breaths to calm myself.

"You're gonna need a new system. Whoa! Calm down," he said when he saw me jump. "It's only me."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I seethed. "What is it now?"

He lifted my box and showed it to me. "This box is fried I'm gonna run down to the truck and get you a brand new one."

"Oh," I said. "It must have shorted out when the power went out."

He nodded. "That's why you should always turn if off before you got to bed."

I glared at him. "I fell asleep. Sue me."

"I might," he grinned and departed for his truck.

"Ugh," I growled when he was gone and threw a dish towel at the wall. He returned minutes later and headed towards the living room.

"I'll soon be out of your hair."

"The sooner the better," I muttered.

He gave me a guarded look. "I heard that." He set up my box and within a few minutes civilization had returned to large TV screen. "Voila."

"Great," I said exhilarated

He picked up the remote and sat down on the couch. He looked quite comfortable there. It was then Ebony came out of her hiding place and jumped on the couch. She stared at him curiously. "I didn't know you adopted a cat."

"I didn't. He or she adopted me actually," I said scooping the cat up and stroking its black fur.

"You don't know what sex your cat is?"

"I found it on my veranda purring and scratching my door. What?"

"Nothing."

"I need to feed him or her."

"I'm not stopping you." He waved me away.

I shook my headed and returned to the kitchen. Once Ebony was set I grabbed a Pepsi from the fridge then wondered if John might want a cold drink.

"Thanks." He popped the lid and took a hard swig.

I noticed he had stopped on the Soap Network and hadn't changed the channel since. "You like watching Soap Operas." I was greatly surprised.

He hardened. "What of it?"

"Big bad Pyro likes soaps."

"It's my thing Marie, leave it the hell alone."

We sat watching without saying another word to each other, yet every often I stole a glance at him. He made no further mention of Bobby to which I was eternally grateful as I reached for my soda. Our hands met accidentally and rush of warmth raced up my skin on contact. I drew back alarmed spilling my soda on the carpet. "Shit!"

I raced to the kitchen. Snatching a towel I hurried back and started to dab at the spot. I felt him watching me and sweat broke out on my back. Anxious, I rose and disappeared in the kitchen, glad to be out of his sight. I didn't know what was happening, not to mention my reaction to his touch. It was an accident and yet something occurred. Something fleeting. Something I didn't want to acknowledge. Feeling hungry I started to make a sandwich when he startled me again.

"Jesus," he said noticing I had stabbed my hand. He took it and inspected it. I was sure what startled him even more was that his fingers were touching my bare skin and there was no deadly effect. "You should have a war wound by now." He lifted his eyes to mine.

"I—I—know," I yanked my hand away from him. I looked at him and saw a somber look on his face.

"You took 'The Cure' didn't you?"

I stiffened, ever ready for an attack. "I had to. It was ruining my life John. But it was all for not." I looked away, hurt.

"Bobby?"

I nodded.

"Son of a bitch."

"Tell me about it." I glanced his way. "I don't know what's happening to me John and quite frankly I'm scared."

"I know how you feel, particularly when I can now do this." He opened his hand and a small flame was danced in the center of his palm. I stood stunned by the sight. He was no longer manipulating the fire he was now creating it. "Want to know what I think? It's not a 'Cure' at least not anymore."

We talked for a while, coming to our own brand of conclusions about 'The Cure'. Almost loosing track of time, John packed up his equipment and tug on his hat. I was almost sad to see him leave. But he told me he was running late and had other places to go to. I paid him with a check and escorted him out the door. "It was nice to see you John."

"Yeah," he said and started down the hall then stopped. "Hey, why don't we go out for a drink some time?"

I wanted to jump at it but deep down I was still dealing with my break-up. Still healing. It wasn't a date but drinks always led to dates. "I'd like to," I said, "but that's highly unlikely."

John merely shrugged and headed on his way.


	2. Chapter II

Summary: Eight months after Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect. Ryro Pairing.

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men.

Author's Note: Rewritten with major editing.

* * *

Chapter II

_Rogue's Point of View:_

I never expected to run into John again. Hell, I thought I would never see him again. After all, he was a cable repair man and was on call all the time. Yet, three days later I stepped out in a dismal San Francisco afternoon. Rain showered in heavy torrents from the heavens, transforming the rolling side walks into rivers and waterfalls. Exiting the supermarket I was immediately drenched in a matter of seconds while attempting to flag down a cab. Sadly, traffic on the street was light. It seemed like everyone in the whole of San Francisco was trying to get out of the weather.

I scrambled up the hill to the bus stop, hoping to have luck there when one of my grocery bags burst. Feminine products and shaving cream littered the sidewalk. I swore a blue streak and dropped to the ground to gather up my items. I glared at several people who had passed me by. Two had given me a weird look. I wanted to beat the living daylights out of them especially the bag boy. Stuffing my items into the other bags in my possession, I prayed they would not break in the strain. Then I was suddenly shielded from the heavy rain and figured a Good Samaritan with an umbrella had come to my assistance.

"Thanks." I said and lifted my eyes to greet a face covered in shadows.

"You should get yourself one of these," John said, mockingly.

My jaw touched the ground. What was he doing here? Was he stalking me? I pushed the idea out of my mind as I rose to my feet. "Are you following me?"

"You wish," he chuckled.

"Then what are doing here John?"

"You have a strange sense of gratitude," he said stepping towards me, bringing his umbrella under the both of us. "Besides it's a free country."

"Well," I said taking a step back, "I better get going."

I was soaked to bone, desperate to get out these wet clothes, and his probing eyes. Just seeing him again sparked memories of the touch and my reaction. I felt myself growing flustered and lowered my head to hide my face.

"What's your hurry?" he demanded.

I gave him a hard look. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing," he said without care. "Just seems like you're running from me or something."

"Running—from you." I spat. "Please!"

Silence fell on our traded words as we stood staring at each other in the rain. I wanted to leave but his eyes held me captive. There was a beauty and fierceness in them that made my stomach tighten.

"Come on," John said taking two of my bags. "Let's get you dry." He walked away leaving me to the mercy of the elements. I watched, eyes wide, as he walked a few feet then turned. "Come on. What? You want to catch a cold?"

I skipped after him and ducked under his umbrella. He led me to a bar that wasn't shabby but it wasn't the high end sophisticated depots some of co-workers and I went to. He was greeted by a middle aged bartender and I guessed this was a local hang out for John on weekends. The bartender, going by the name of Mike, was gracious enough to give me a towel to mop my skin dry and wring out my hair. John threw out an order for two beers. I trailed him to a corner booth and sat down to dry myself. I was grateful some of the items did not need to be put in the fridge right away. I started to blush, noting that one of the bags John had carried held a box of Playtex tampons.

"What?" He asked, looking me oddly.

"Nothing."

"Here you are?" A waitress said putting two beers on the table.

"Thanks Rosie," John said squeezing a wad of cash in her hand. "And let me get two shots of Bourbon for me and my friend here. She needs to get fired up."

"You got it."

She left to get his order and returned in a moment with two small shot glasses. He picked his shot glass and threw down the hard liquor. Hissing, he slammed the small cup on the table. "Drink up. It will warm you."

"No thanks, I don't drink." I said wrapping the towel around me but it did little to stop the shivers.

He eyed me closely. "Don't drink. I figured with the Wolverine in your head you would guzzle this shit down by the gallons."

"I try not to let the personalities inside my head run me over. You take it. You wash down some of that trash you always talk"

He soured. "Why the hell are you so fucking bitchy? I'm trying to be nice here and you're cutting my nuts off."

"Why don't we cut to the chase John?" I said. "Being nice is not your style? It was never you."

"Maybe 'The Cure' gave me a change of heart." He said taking a sip of his beer.

"Change yes," I said dryly. "Heart? I didn't know you had one."

He glared at me his eyes burning, almost on fire. "I always had a heart Marie. I'm just smart enough not to wear on my sleeve like you."

I steamed. "What do you know about it?"

"I know enough," he said passively. "Drink up Marie I paying for them."

"Don't call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"Marie."

He gave me an incredulous look. "It's your fucking name isn't it?"

"I never gave you permission to use it." I seethed.

"Who did you give? Logan, a guy who was barely interested or Bobby, a prick who screwed you and then dumped you."

Tears filled my eyes and I clenched my teeth livid. I surged to my feet and threw my beer in his face. "Fuck you John!" I grabbed my stuff and stormed out of the joint. Drenched. Cold. I decided I'd rather deal with the weather than John Allerdyce.

()()()()

I woke up Monday morning bright and early determined not to think about my little stint with John. I was determined to put on a pleasant face for work after a two week sabbatical and yet he engaged my thoughts with bitter diatribes that made me grip my tooth brush in fury as I brushed my teeth. I couldn't believe after two days I was thinking about what he said to me. The coldness of his words. The arrogance. It had hurt so deeply that I cried the second I stepped through the door.

I cried because what John had said was true and it made me realize how pathetic my life had been. I was once in love with a man I was too young to have and then loved a boy who used me for his own selfish pleasures. True I was the one who dumped Bobby in end; but it still hurt as did everything else in my life. And it hurt that John was right.

Forcing myself to get ready, I headed to work with my head held high. I wasn't about to allow the likes of John Allerdyce drag me into a depression. Nevertheless, I felt the oppressive weight of something much worse the minute I stepped into the bank. Sharp eyes came in from all directions. I saw people leaning to each other and whispering. I clutched my purse and made my way to the lounge.

"Miss D'Ancanto."

I turned around and saw Katherine, a loan agent, seated at her desk. "Yes."

"Mr. Stevens would like a word with you in his office." I felt a hard thump in my chest as a dark forewarning struck me.

"Now."

She nodded and continued to scrutinize an application for a home mortgage. Sauntering to the elevator, I held my purse close, and rode it up the twelfth floor. I then proceeded towards the sixth door on the right, ignoring the heads that lifted to gawk at me as I passed offices.

Mr. Stevens, the bank manager, was reclined in his chair and on the phone. A lean man with even features and thinning hair, he had a tenacity for efficiency and was meticulously austere in the work order. Everything had to be precise. Acknowledging me, he waved me inside and bid me to take a seat with the flick of his wrist. I sank into one of two chair positioned in front of his desk, my breath coming out in pants. I tried to center my thoughts rather than mull over the inevitable. I prayed it wasn't the worst.

He eventually ended his conversation. Shifting in his seat, he regarded me and released a heavy sigh. "Miss D'Ancanto."

"Sir," I said nervously.

"I hope you understand the seriousness of your actions the other day."

"I do sir."

"Really." He arched a brow, his thin lips became tight. "Because you put not only your life in harm's way, but your fellow co-workers and the good people who trust in the stability of the First National Bank. This establishment has no place for rash action and stupidity. Heroes are entitled to policemen and firefighters not our employees. Therefore, we have no choice but to let you go."

"You're firing me," I said alarmed.

"You're too much of a liability Miss D'Ancanto." His eyes dropped from me and turned to the computer screen on his right. "Don't worry you will be given a severance package. It will be mailed to you so you don't have to come into the bank and disturb the other employees."

He busied himself with work and I sat there in the chair like an idiot until he glanced up and asked me to leave. Tears stinging the back of my eyes, I headed out his office and rushed to the elevator. I cleared the bank in ten seconds flat and stormed down the avenue, my hair flying wildly. Angry tears rolled down my face and my chest was heaving.

I wanted to stomp, scream till my throat was raw, but it all ended with me somberly accepting the situation. After hours of wandering the streets of San Francisco, I took a cab home. I was greeted by Ebony; the feisty feline weaved through my legs and meowed. I picked her up and smoothed my hand over her silky, black coat. A visit to the Vet two days ago had confirmed there were now two females residing in the household. "You won't believe the day I've had." I carried her to my bedroom and placed her on the bed. I turned and headed for the bathroom. She jumped down and followed me and hiked up onto the toilette seat.

I ran a bath and got out my clothes. I added bath oil then tested the temperature. It was perfect. I dimmed the lights and turned on some New Age music, intent on soaking for at least an hour. Submerged in the water I lay my head back and covered my face with a warm rag. Once I felt like had soak the ills of the day away, I put on a pink tank shirt and white shorts and prepared Ebony's food and some lunch for myself when the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Damn girl, don't you have a fucking job or something? You're always home."

I nearly dropped the phone. "How did you get this number John?"

"I have my resources."

I started to think of where he could have possibly gotten my number. Then I realized it was a part the cable company's records. "You're breeching protocol you know that don't you?"

He snorted. "What the hell are they gonna do fire me?"

"They might."

"Not if you rat me out."

"I might."

"So why are home any way," he said ignoring my threat.

"That's none of your business."

He chuckled. "What? Did you get fired or something?"

I held the phone tightly, resentful to the fact he had nailed it. I stuttered. "No," I lied. "I wasn't—feeling—good."

"You need to learn how lie," he remarked and my face reddened. There was a long pause and I thought he had hung up but his voice came over the phone again. "You really pissed me off when you left me hanging the other day."

"I pissed you off!"

"Yeah," he said cynical. "And thanks for making me look like an asshole in front of everyone."

"You are an asshole!" I shouted.

"Whatever."

"Look John I'd really loved to stay and have this fulfilling conversation but I have things to do."

"Like what feed your cat and watch TV." He started laughing and I slammed the phone down in vexation. I stomped to living and switched on the television just as he predicted. The phone rang and I answered it. It was John again and I hung up. He called me three more times and I grew annoyed.

"Listen John, leave me alone!" I bellowed.

"Whoa kid! Don't blow a gasket! It's me!"

"Logan," I exhaled in relief, falling against the cushions.

"What's the matter?" He asked concerned. "You got some pervert stalking yah. Making crank calls?"

"You can say that," I groaned.

"Want me to deal with 'em?"

"You're all the way in New York. You're no use to me."

"Never stopped me before."

"Don't I know it," I laughed.

"So how come you're home so early," Logan asked. "I figured you be back at work by now."

I hesitated before answering. "I—g—got—the day—off."

"Really," he droned.

I closed my eyes, knowing fully, Logan had sniffed out the truth. But I didn't want him worry. He always did worry about me. "Yeah," I sighed heavily, "really."

"Come on Rogue," Logan coaxed. "It's me and I'm no one's fool."

Raking a hand through my hair, I leaned forward, my head dipping slightly. "Don't worry about it Logan. I have it under control."

"Alright." I heard him say although I heard the break in his voice, the anger brewing underneath an even tone. He was downright furious. He knew I been fired because of the incident. Bidding him farewell, I placed my phone back on the receiver, and rose to stretch.

I wasn't in a total lost or was I strep for cash. Right before I left the mansion, Ororo handed me an envelope. Inside was a check of a considerable amount. Astonished, I looked at her and she simply nodded. She explained that it was according to the Professor's wishes as stipulated in his will. Those of us without family or a home to return to would be given starting out money if we chose to pursue a life outside the mansion. It was hard for me to accept the money, hard to accept the fact that the Professor was gone and never coming back.

I rose and walked out onto the terrace to stare out into the distance, I watched the sky deepen into an amber shade as the sun began to set into the horizon. Hearing the phone ring again, I entered my apartment. Poor Logan. The man was still determined to be my protector. "Logan, don't worry about me, I have everything under control."

"Wrong mutant Stripes."

My eyes darkened with rage. "John!"

"Yep."

"What do I owe this fourth phone call?"

"An apology that's what you owe," he said coldly.

"What—?"

"And I think dinner tonight would make up for your rude behavior: hanging up on me, not mention throwing beer in my face." He listed.

I couldn't believe he was asking me out. "Dinner?"

"Yeah, at Red Lobster, seven sharp."

He gave me directions to the restaurant and ended the call without giving me a chance to kindly reject his offer. I lingered on the phone till I heard the automated operator instruct me to hang up or dial a number. Stunned, confused, I put the phone on the cradle and walked in into my bedroom. I marked the time on the digital clock sitting on my night stand. It was five forty-five. I headed to the bathroom. I couldn't believe I was actually going.

()()()()

Thirty minutes after my arrival at Red Lobster, I sat fuming, waiting for John to appear. Furious, I locked eyes with my wristwatch then at couples and families entering the restaurant in herds. Bitterness began to take shape. What could have possibly possessed me to come here? What was I thinking? It was true I had nothing better to do and watching the last episode of the Sopranos for the second time was tempting, but after ten more minutes I was now renewing my avid hatred of the flame wielding mutant. Too imagine for one brief moment I thought John had amended to a better man. A job and steady income. His conduct displayed otherwise.

Grinding my teeth together I rose and gave one final glance at the restaurant. I had to give him credit for his choice. It rested on shores of the majestic bay that parted through the city. The water glimmered in the moonlight and lapped softly against the bank adding to the appeal of the sea food bistro. I was glad it was a good distance from the ruins of Golden Gate Bridge. The last thing I wanted to see was the remnants of a horrific battle or to be reminded John had been there.

I tugged my jacket closer about me and started down the walkway. I wanted to get out of there fast and leave him stranded and see how he would like it. I strolled pass a group of guys who hooted and howled at me. I flashed the tallest one a dark look. He grinned. Tapping one of his friends on the shoulder and advanced towards me. He was cute, curling blond hair. He was a tall, strapping fellow, probably played College football for he was wearing a school emblem on his jacket. Either way, I was in no mood for anymore bullshit.

"What's happenin' baby?" he said. "Alone?"

"Yes, I'd like to keep it that way," I snapped.

"She's a loaded pistol," one of his friends mocked.

He tossed his friend an annoyed look then smiled at me. "We're heading to the Rave. Care to join us?"

"I don't think so."

"Come on," he said tipping his head. "What? It's obvious you're alone. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone. Who's gonna miss you?"

"Me."

Stunned, I twirled on my heels to see John standing a good foot from us. He looked between the two of us his blues deadly. He looked ready to strike at the guy that was trying to win my affections. A wealth of shivers raced up my spine at the sight of him. He exactly as he did the day those two creeps harassed us at the museum in New York. He walked slowly to me and the football jock earnestly working to gain my favor.

"Sorry I'm late. Took me a while to get a cab, especially in my neighborhood." He glared at the guy beside me. He had retreated to the safety of his friends. "Let's eat," John said taking me by the arm, half dragging me to the restaurant.

"Hey," I said, protesting his assault on my arm. "Let go." I wrenched free and stepped away from him. "I'm not going to dinner with you."

"What do you mean?" he grumbled.

"I mean I was sitting on that bench John," I began testily. "Waiting for your ass like a fool for more than thirty minutes."

"I told you I had trouble getting a cab. Jesus, what do you want a sonnet to go with the apology?"

I folded my arms. "Maybe."

"And you wonder why Bobby dumped you. You are so fucking high maintenance."

Anguish shot into my chest. Shaking, I curled and uncurled my hand only to let it right palm open and fly through the air. I hit his face with a loud slap. He simply twisted his mouth and stared me with those soulless blue eyes. "Feel better."

"Goddamn you John."

"He already has." He glared at me for a second then abandoned me. "I'm hungry," he stated rather impatiently. "Do what you want?"

I stood there panting heavily; my heart galloping. Wounds I wanted to bury gushed forth endlessly. Tears burned. I hated him so much I wanted to kill him. I wished my powers were active. I could drain him till he could no longer forge a word on that smart mouth of his. I would be rid of him. But I found myself walking, standing at his side in front of a pretty hostess who guided us to our table. We were seated outside on the upper deck overlooking the river. Boats streamed with lights floated slowly on the water. If it were not for the hostility and brash words traded I would have found the whole scene quite romantic.

"Have a nice evening," she smiled, handing us our menus.

"Too late," I murmured and flipped my menu open. I held it high covering John's face. I didn't want to look at him at the moment. I scanned the appetizers and dinner prepared.

"Decided?"

I lowered the menu and stared at him. He appeared bored. I noted a red blemish coloring his cheek and felt a fleeting bad for my behavior. I straightened. NO! John wasn't going to pull any guilt out of me. He insulted me. I simply justified my feelings.

"I'll have the grilled swordfish." I closed my menu and set it beside me.

His lips curled into a debonair smile. "Thought the Wolverine in you would favor steak."

"Too high in calories and fat," I replied, glancing out onto the moonlight water.

"Slimming? What for Bobby's long gone." I had it. I collected my purse and pushed my chair back. "Leaving so soon?"

"I've had a real shitty day John. I don't need this."

He leaned back in his chair, holding up his hands in an act of surrender. "Fine," he said. "I won't mention the Boy Scout again or anything to press your tender frailties."

For him it was a start one that might not last. I sank into the chair just as our waiter approached. He took our orders then disappeared. We sat moping, not speaking, not looking at each another. Tension cut into the evening like a sharp knife. I heard him breath in a puff of air and lifted my eyes to his face. I could tell he was ill at ease. He detested uncomfortable silences. It rankled him.

"So," I said, deciding to show some good cheer. "What do you do at the cable company?"

"Fix cable," he replied flatly, his face contorting in mockery to my stupid question.

I sighed; my attempt to strike up a conversation was a failure. Honestly, asking him about his job was not the sort of inquiries that came to mind. I really wanted to know why he left. Why he joined Magneto? What drove him to such bitterness and malice, besides the prejudice that rained in from the world every day? Why? It screamed in my head, making me wince. I picked up my goblet of ice water and took a large gulp. He watched me cocking his head to the side.

"So," he said, his soft lips pouting. "Why did you leave the mansion? I thought you an X-Men to the end."

I coughed. His question had mirrored mine. "I—got—tired of—the constant shadow of death. Make no mistake, I care and miss the Professor, but it grew tedious putting on a sad face. It nearly became a sin to laugh in that place. I don't think it's what he would have wanted for us in his absence."

He nodded and moved a fork out of place. "You miss it."

"Sometimes," I shrugged. Slowly, I raised my eyes to his face, wondering. "D—do you miss—the mansion?"

"I miss the food," he remarked, snickering.

I found myself laughing, easing into a conversation with John. We made a silent promise not to tread on each other's old skeletons no matter how great the temptation. Speaking of better times, it was delightful talking about our misadventures at the mansion.

"I did like you," he admitted after a hearty meal and several beers, two he made me drink with him. "Before Bobby and his pathetic ice rose, before the three of us became you and him."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He merely shrugged and drank his beer. "What difference would it make? You already made your bed?"

I stiffened. Rage ignited a vicious temper, but I held my peace. "And don't you wish you slept in it?" I clucked.

I caught the change in is facial features, the hardening of his jaw, and smiled. Victory was fleeting. He rose and excused himself. I sat alone; he was gone awhile. I began to worry, and felt a little embarrassed, and rose to look for him. I panicked when I couldn't find him and went stand by the railing. I couldn't figure out why I felt so terrible. How many awful bards had he thrown my way? He'd been cruel, distasteful and downright uncaring. I stared out onto the river, breathing in the salty air and a faint mist blew in on the night air. Suddenly John appeared and stood beside me. I gulped, awaited a sarcastic blare to my coarse remark.

"Let's get out of here," he said.

Mouth agape I turned and saw him head to our table. He laid a considerable amount of money in a small black folder and handed it the waiter then he walked to the main building. I followed him, cautious, unsure how his action would evolve as we departed and took a walk down the district.

I clutched my purse and bit my lip. Tremors exploded in tune to my fretted nerves. To my horror, he took my hand in his; swinging me around, he took my lips boldly. Delicious quivers resonated throughout every cell in my being. His mouth was sensuous and hot, stroking the flames burning in my skin. Disbelief melded with a wild arousal as I found myself pressing into him. His body was hard, hot, extremely inviting. Heat pulsated from him in waves. He sucked on my bottom lip before sliding his tongue inside the warm cavern of my mouth. A moan escaped me as I clung to him, drinking his essence. His expertise was alarming. I felt a rise in me that was literally about to take me over as he teased my mouth.

He then drew back, obtaining an angry grunt from me, and he smiled. I opened my eyes to greet a satisfied look on his face. He knew. He knew I wanted him, always, wanted him. That if he hadn't left…if he hadn't become Magneto's henchmen…I would have eventually dumped Bobby for him.

I would.

I shoved him back, furious. Angry at his confidence and at my body's betrayal to feelings old and new. "I hope you enjoyed that because it won't happen again."

"So you say." He grinned then turned to hail a cab.

The ride home was sheer agony. John made no move to touch me or rub his triumph over my emotions in my face. When the cab stopped in front of my apartment building, he got out and walked me to the steps. My heart pulsed. I thought he was going to make another try to kiss me but he did nothing.

Nothing at all.


	3. Chapter III

Summary: Eight months after Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect. Ryro Pairing.

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men.

Author's Note: Rewritten with major editing.

* * *

Chapter III

_Rogue's Point of View:_

"Damn it, stop thinking about him," I hissed in vexation, while busying myself with a day's cleaning. From ceiling to floor, I powered my way across my apartment armed with a cleaning supply caddy. Occasionally, I would steal a glance at my phone, hesitant yet at the same time anticipating a phone call from John. But he didn't call. Even after our bizarre date, I still had no word from him.

I kept thinking about what he said. Over and over, his harsh words rolled in my head. I started to watch the phones religiously, hoping he would call, and I would be comforted by the sound of his voice. A week passed without as much as a hello. Rage transformed to tears and I grew embittered. I felt foolish. Common sense told me to despise him with every breath in my body. To hate him for everything he was and for how he made me feel. Nevertheless, John's presence crept into the very mire of my being in the quiet of night. I would stretch out my hand over the empty space in longing, thinking of John.

I craved his heat.

It was an uncanny sensation to the abysmal cold I was used to. Frustration mounted. And I was starting to have difficulty going to sleep. The intensity of the kiss John and I shared even now left me tingling; leaving me tossing and turning in the sheets. Night after night I would reminisce on a mouth that had delivered passions I had hungered from I did love. Restless, my fingers eventually traveled south to put an end to the strain and want building around a single kiss. I finally sleep only through the gift of self-gratification which left me hollow and empty in the morning. In need of distraction I went job hunting and managed to secure a position as a secretary at a law firm. I was lucky. They didn't dig deep into my pass or found out about that little stunt at the bank.

Banks, for me, were out of the question. Who needed the stress of worrying about you're going to get robbed. I didn't. A second week flew by without a hitch and no word from John. Sadly, I abandoned the idea he would call and focused on my life. I telephoned Logan and told him of my new job. He was glad to hear I was out of harm's way even though he still wanted me to come home. He wanted me safe. He asked me of other things I was smart to keep my date with John out of the picture. The last thing I desired was a raving Logan. But what did it matter he was never going to call.

()()()()

On my day off, I sat with Ebony on the couch eating a bowl of Edy's ice cream. It was a clear afternoon, but unusually hot for San Francisco. I had no intention of stepping out in the boiling heat. It only reminded me of someone I wanted to forget. Sitting cross legged on the couch, a bowl of ice-cream in my like, I watched a movie on Lifetime, and was all set to discover the identity of the murderer when the phone rang. "Great," I huffed and set the volume to mute. "Hello."

"I figured you'd be sitting by the phone, waiting for my call," John chuckled. "Don't I feel special?"

I blackened. "You got some goddamn nerve calling me."

"What did I do now?"

"It's what you didn't do John."

"And what is that? Call?" I knew he was smirking on the other end, which only increased my ire. "I have better things to do. Besides I've got a job to do and it makes me very tired at the end of the day. The last thing I want to do is call you and talk and talk and talk and talk as you females love to do. You'd have me up all fucking night."

I didn't know whether I should observe the sense in what he said or be insulted. John was a conundrum of logic and rudeness. It made it difficult for me to like or hate him. "You could have just said hi."

"Hence the trap. A 'hello' is never good enough. Women are always complaining about how guys don't talk and you would've probably goaded me into a long, boring conversation."

"You know me John." I said. "I was never a big talker."

"Years at the mansion change a person."

"Didn't change you did it." I clenched my teeth. I couldn't believe I said that. I heard him pause and take a breath. I knew he was weighing my words. I pondered if I'd stuck a nerve with him.

"You didn't know me from when I first got there."

"You were worse than what you are now?"

He laughed. "I was living nightmare for the Professor." I saddened at the mention of my mentor and father figure to all mutants seeking refuge at X-Mansion. "I wanted to burn everything. I couldn't get enough of fire. I needed to see it. Touch it. Watch it take shape and spread."

"Explains why you always toy with your lighter."

"It's a reaction to my desire to burn—and—other things." I heard a falter in his voice and grew concerned. Was his fiddling with that metal item a way to counter feelings he never spoke of? I yearned to ask but remained silent. "What are you doing now?" I knew he was deliberately changing the subject; trying to deter me from discussions into his personal life.

"Uh—watching—Lifetime Movie Network." I heard the doorbell ring. "Hold on there's someone at the door."

"Blow them off."

"Wait," I said. "I have to see what they want."

"Marie."

"Wait, John."

Ensuring the chain was set, I tried to peer through the peephole, but something was obstructing my vision. Hesitant, I opened the door slowly, and his voice hit me in stereo. "Did you get rid of them?"

I gasped as I looked John square in the face. He was leaning casually against the doorpost; his cell phone was glued to his ears. I clicked the button my phone. "You jerk."

He laughed and hung up his phone. "Can I come in?"

I hesitated before widening the door. "So," I asked, watching as he walked gallantly to the sofa and dropped into it. "Why are you here?"

"I had the day off."

"You want to spend it with me?" My heart leapt with excitement.

"Well my other ladies are kinda busy," he shrugged and flipped the channels on my television.

"Very funny." I darkened. Not wanting to consider the idea of other women in his life running loose in San Francisco. "Besides, I'm not one of your ladies."

He looked at me, lips curling into a smile. "Not yet."

I shivered and tried to hide it. "How bold we are?" I stomped to the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

"I'll take a beer if you have it love." He spoke in a perfect Australian accent, startling me, and I peered out at him in surprise.

"What's with the accent?"

"Never met a distant cousin of the British Empire luv," he flashed me a cheeky grin.

"You're—Australian?"

"Born and raised till I was nine—then things turned to shit—" He sank deep into the cushions, his jaw twitching, dark shadows touching his face. I walked nervously out of the kitchen, two Pepsis in my hand. He gazed up at me and arched a brow.

"Sorry, no beer." He took the soda and popped the tab and drank. "Was this all before your powers manifested?" He nodded. "So early?"

"Xavier said it happens sometimes." He muttered. "Some of us get our powers early." I sat heavily on the couch; anxious to learn more, yet I didn't try to rush him. If he was going to unburden himself, I wasn't going to force it out of him. Instead he grew silent, mindlessly flipping channel after channel, bringing an end to the inquiries into his past. My mind, however, churned. John never spoke with an accent, indicating his nationality as an Australian. He probably immigrated to the United States and lived in the country so long, that part of him slowly began to fade away.

How old was he? Twenty-one?

Ebony scampered to me and meowed, desiring a little attention and affection. I picked her up but she hoped out of my arms and went to John. He looked down at her with open skepticism as she purred and rubbed her head into his arm. "I think she likes you," I smiled.

He stroked her black coat. "She has good taste." After a good while, he hopped to his feet and looked down at me. "Well, go get dressed."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

I eyed him closely. He shook his head and walked out onto the veranda. "You got one hour, if you're not ready by then, I'll go."

To my amazement, I didn't want that so I got up and went into my bedroom. I didn't know what to expect as we sat in the cab made our way downtown. John was silent. His eyes were glued to his side of the window. I fidgeted and tapped my feet uneasily. He soon regarded my frantic motions with a sideways glance and bid me to stop for it was annoying him.

The cab turned east and headed to the marina. I saw a large ship and an outlay of a dozen cars and people getting aboard the cruiser. It was one of those ships that left the harbor and floated down the river out to sea and back. Providing passengers with a glorious view of the sun sinking on the ocean's horizon. There was dinner, dancing, a gambling if anyone desired. My heart pounded. I was completely overwhelmed. Quickly, my eyes peeled towards John. He was unresponsive.

He paid the driver when we came as close as we could to the ocean liner and got out. I smoothed a hand down my sundress as he came over to my side and opened the door. He took my hand and a wave emotion shot like an electrical current up my hand.

"You're taking me on the cruiser?" I had to ask. I dared not think it possible he could be this romantic.

"I saw the way you were looking at the ships that were passing by the other night and figured you'd like to go on one," he said.

I lunged forward and kissed him on the cheek. He grinned and laced his fingers with mine and led me down to the peer. The sheer animation of the whole venture had not lifted as we gradually made our way down the gangplank. Bidding one or two of the crew good night, we climbed into a cab and head for my apartment. I never imagined John, Pyro, was capable of doing something so sweet, so selfless. I now knew then that everyone was wrong about him. He had just been dealt a bad hand in life. He just needed support and someone to put their faith in him. Could I be that person John needed? I was scared to even dream of such a thing. I had been injured in my own partaking of love and feared suffering another brutal injury.

I was also battling myself and another seed that was gradually taking root. As of this moment, I wanted John in my bed. I should feel shameful. Be embarrassed by the thoughts cruising at high speed along the neurons of my brain steam, sending me shivers and quakes in my stomach. I squeezed my toes and bit my lip. I shouldn't feel this way. Hell, I wasn't a virgin, so fear and anxiety were not a problem. But technically it was my first time...with John...and that was significant in itself. Not to mention the kiss we shared on the top deck of the ship. His lips were pure magic. I wanted to reclaim the fervor that took me into oblivion.

How was it possible I could feel this way for someone who was once an enemy? Then again, he wasn't my enemy. I didn't face him at Alcatraz. I didn't fight. I chose the road many mutants traveled. I chose acceptance rather take a last stand to fight for our rights.

I directed my gaze to John. His head was back and his eyes were closed. Was he sleeping? I hoped not. I didn't want him to be too tired to do what I wanted him to do tonight. I scooted close to him and brushed a strand of hair back from his brow. The texture was soft and appealing to my fingertips. Bobby told me John had dyed his hair blood and had cut it into some crude, wild style.

However, I saw no trace of the villainous entity he had taken on himself. It was long and dark brown just as it was the first time I met him. I couldn't see him as a blond. The shade didn't fit him. I liked his hair this color. The brown drew out the brilliant hue of his eyes. I drew my fingers down the side of his face and carefully traced his lips. Beautiful, full, I yearned to kiss them.

A hand clamped my wrist and I yelped. John stared at me with half open eyes. I lowered my eyes and bit my bottom lip. My pulsed hammered into his palm as he folded it upwards and drew it to his lips. I caught my breath, watched as he kissed it, and then he drew me close to him. He rubbed the back of his knuckles against my face, his other hand massaging the small of my back. Suddenly, I was lost in a kiss that left me giddy.

"We're here love birds," the driver announced.

I groaned and slithered from his hold and flopped into to my side of the cab. John shoved his hand into his pocket and fished out his wallet. "Walk me to my apartment John," I said, my voice warm like milk. He nodded and but stopped in front of the building.

He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. "Good-night Marie." He turned to leave and I tried to dissuade him.

"Why don't you come up for night cap?" God! Could I have sounded more desperate? I didn't care.

He shook his head. "No," he said. "It's better I go."

Incredulous, I stared at him mouth open. Wasn't he the one claiming he would have me someday? Here I was standing at the edge of my apartment building, my body fuming with heat. I felt like I was going explode if he didn't take me this very instant. What was he waiting for? Did he think I was doing this out of revenge? A means to forget Bobby and the life I had with him. "John," I exhaled, lowering my eyes to the ground. "This has nothing to do with Bobby."

His face grew sour and his eyes flickered. I frowned. He turned and walked up the street; the cab had already departed leaving him stranded. My insides twisted at the sight of seeing him going. Absently, I journeyed indoors to my apartment. Reaching my door, I pulled out my keys, entered my apartment. Ebony scurried to me purring. I petted her head and went to shower and tugged on my nightshirt. As I made ready for bed I heard the doorbell ring. I went to the door and hiked up onto my toes and saw John standing in the hallway. Taking a breath, I opened the door. I stepped back as he entered his hands shoved in his pockets. The longing in his eyes mirrored my own along with a slight hesitation.

"Marie," he breathed.

I ran to him and flung his arms around his neck. I pulled his head down and took his mouth in a heady kiss. He gathered me into his arms, picking me up off the ground. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I planted moist kisses along his face as he carried me into the bedroom, kicking the door shut.

()()()()

"John," I asked, awaking from a blissful night, turning in the sheets at the sound of movement and frowned slight when I saw him getting dressed. "Where are you doing?"

"I've got go," he replied, buckling his belt, scrapping his shirt from off the ground.

"Why?" I turned my head toward the window. It was dawn, barely. The sun had not taken its dominate place in the sky and I looked at the time. It was 6:45 am. "It's early."

"I know," he sank into the mattress to tug on his boots. "I've got to be at work in two hours and I have to travel clear across town to get home and put on my uniform."

"Okay," I said, unsure of how to react to his leaving, particularly after we had sex. It wasn't love making, but pure, unadulterated, sex. "I'll—uh—make you—some breakfast." I tossed the sheet aside and collected my nightshirt from the floor and stood.

John came over and placed a hand on my shoulder, massaging gently. "Don't bother I'll grab something on the way to work. Besides you got to be up in a few hours for work right." I nodded. Tucking a tendril behind my ear, he leaned forward and kissed me. "I'll see you in a bit." He straightened and started walking out the bedroom.

I sank onto the mattress. "Call me?"

"Promise." He winked and left the room.

To my astonishment, he kept his word, and I invited him over for dinner. We never sat down to eat. We spent the entire night exploring each other bodies. Late in the night I awoke to see him gazing soundlessly at me, his fingers coiling a whit strand of my hair about his forefinger. I grinned and snuggled closer, planting a kiss on his chest.

"Can't sleep?" I asked.

"Not when I'm around you."

I giggled and moved to straddle his hips. "Perhaps I can do something to help."

He rested his hands on the small of my back. "Perhaps, or you can run into the kitchen and make me a sandwich."

"What?" I cried.

"I haven't eaten in a long while, Marie. I need to recharge the battery if you know what I mean," he teased, working his hips in an upward motion. Squeals of laughter escaped my lips and I hit him lightly to stop his crude charade. I then tried to rise but he grabbed me and flipped me onto my back.

"I thought you were hungry."

"I got my second wind." He eased onto me slowly and leaving a trail of kissing in his wake.

()()()()

I roused hours later astonishingly tired but greatly satisfied. Adjusting to more comfortable position in the crumpled sheets, I sought out my lover, and grinned at the alarming prospect of John filling the role.

"John?" I said when I found his space empty. Bolting to a sit, my heart swelling in my chest, I searched my bedroom. I heard a noise and got out of bed to inspect it. Walking out into the living room I saw him standing on the terrace. "John?" He turned. His eyes were heavy as if he had been thinking about something distressing. "Are you okay?"

Click.

The clinking sound of a lighter being opened took me by surprise and sent my eyes down to inspect his hands. There it was. His zippo, a painted shark's head on its side. The little tinker toy that never left his side through his days at the mansion. "Yeah," he replied, feigning a smile. Rotating, he propped his elbows onto the marble barrier.

I stepped onto the veranda and placed a hand on the upper portion of his back; he stiffened. I didn't say anything, only stood by his side. He resumed opening and closing the lighter. It had always annoyed me and everyone at the school. We all feared that one day he was going to burn the place down. Now, I knew different; this behavior of his could only mean that something was bothering him.

"It happened so quickly I didn't expect it." He said, staring down into the thriving public. "It happened on a day like this. School was out. It was the holidays, me and my friends would muck around till supper. One afternoon, I came across my friends roasting fire ants along a pathway. It wasn't so much as a discomfort in hands but a quickening, like when you're trying to strike a match. The flame sought me I didn't find it. It just latched itself onto me, I couldn't put out. I tried. Tommy got hurt. His parents blamed me, filed a lawsuit against my parents. Suddenly I was the freak of the neighborhood. Dad and mom couldn't deal —shit—"

"Is that how you came to America," I coaxed.

He nodded. "I shipped out to live with relatives here." He snorted; shrugging shoulders she knew had a mountain of weight on them. "They couldn't wait to get rid of me once they discovered I was a mutant. I got lost in the system, in and out of foster homes, before the Professor found me." He puffed out bitterly. "There was a time I forgot John was my real name."

"So, Pyro was born."

"You could say that. I made him up so I would know I was still alive...still here...not a defect to parents who discovered I was flawed."

With ever loving tenderness, I turned him and cupped his face. "You are not flawed," I whispered and took his mouth in a passionate kiss.

I wanted him to know that he was perfect to me...meant something...to me. Tears began to well underneath my lashes at the shocking knowledge that I was falling in love with John. I thought it was too soon; impossible. I went on two dates and slept with him. Surely it couldn't count for love. But feelings surfaced. Our past lives intertwined strangely; a twisted fate mired in anguish and rejection that left us scarred. I did nothing else but hold him up until he departed leaving me to digest what he had told me. I never asked why he decided to share his grief; I was only grateful. It was step in a right direction. He trusted me.

It was all I could want.

()()()()

Months faded. The fall season began yet our relationship hardly simmered. It intensified, slowly, building to something genuine. John spent more nights at my place, sometimes a whole entire week. He hardly ever went home after work. He would sometimes pack an overnight bag and take refuge in my apartment. I had to admit his presence grew monotonous, then again on nights when the temperature dipped as November crept in, it was nice to have a warm body to snuggle next to.

"So have you decided?" I asked as I put on the finishing touches to the turkey. It was Thanksgiving and I had been working tirelessly in the kitchen all morning. I hoped my first attempt at making dinner would not be disastrous. John, on the other hand, was glued in front of the television, switching from the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade and the football game on ESPN. He hardly came to my aid, only added to the strain of work by asking me to toss him a beer or make him a sandwich.

"John?"

"Huh?" He looked at me then back at the TV.

"John!" I growled in aggravation, while opening a can of cranberry sauce.

"What? I'm watching the game."

"Have you decided about coming back to New York with me for Christmas?" His face sank into an abysmal scowl as he quietly sipped his beer. "Well?" I had asked him a few weeks ago and he had yet to give me an answer.

"Must I suffer their company," he scoffed.

"They're my friends and it's been a while since I've seen them."

"You lived there for almost three years," he snapped. "Don't you think you've got enough memorable moments to last a lifetime?"

"If you don't want to come, that's all you have to say. I'll go by myself." I barked out furiously, portioning out the mashed potatoes into a bowl and added a gob of butter on top.

"So what am I gonna do for Christmas."

"I don't know. Watch football or any other Sunday morning game." His lips squeezed into a bitter pucker and he made a face. He returned his eyes to the plasma screen. I started setting the table, muttering to myself about men when my phone rang. "Get the phone will you?"

"I'm watching the game." He grumbled.

"Oh for Christ's sakes, John." I bellowed." I have TIVO pause it and get the phone!"

"Alright," he snapped, pushing to his feet. "Who could be calling you anyway?"

"Your mother," I threw out.

"Funny," he said. "Hello?"

"Who the hell is this?"

"Logan. It's been a while," I heard John say and dropped a dish completely mortified. I surged out of the kitchen, my heart thundering like a dozen racehorses. I literally heard Logan bellowing on the other line.

"Pyro—John—?"

"It's for you," he said tossing the phone to me and dropping heavily into the sofa without a care in the world.

"Logan," I said jittery. "Hi. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Start talking kid cause you're not foolin' me."

"Huh? I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's was Pyro. I can sniff out that little shit a mile away. He's alive? How and what the hell is he doing at your place anyway?"

I felt John's eyes on me and sighed. "It's a long story."

"Clarified everything?" John asked the second I walked out of the bedroom.

"Nothing is ever simple." I answered.

I put the phone on the charger and went back to the kitchen to sweep up the mess. I was still getting over my conversation with Logan and ears had yet to stop ringing from all his screaming and bickering. By now the entire mansion would know I was sleeping and living with John. It was then Bobby tiptoed into my thoughts. What would he think about me now that I've slept with his former best friend? I didn't want to imagine it. Nor did I really care. Let him stew in the fact I was no longer available.

"You okay."

I glanced up to see John standing in the archway. "Yeah. I'm used to Logan and his hollering. I'm used to lots of things." I went to the trash can to dump the broken bits into the container.

"What about your friends finding out about us?"

I looked at him; his face was hard. Love for him overshadowed any fear and doubt that would arise because of my involvement with him. I went to him, throwing my arms about his neck. "Come with me," I said. "I want everyone to see and know about us."

"Really."

"Yes," I gently kissed his lips. "Really."


	4. Chapter IV

Summary: Eight months after Alcatraz, Rogue runs into someone she doesn't expect. Ryro Pairing.

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men.

Author's Note: Rewritten with major editing.

* * *

Chapter IV

_Rogue's Point of View__:_

_Click!_

I heard the signature flick of a lighter giving birth to a flame. The grind of metal against flint to awaken the fire he loved so dearly. The sound was foreign to me. It came so unexpectedly it jolted me out of my sleep. It had been months since I heard John play with the menacing instrument that preludes his manipulative control over fire.

_Click! Click!_

There it was again.

Eyes fluttering open I laid on my side and listened as my enigmatic pyromaniac tempted fate and the security of my household to revel in the gleam of a simple flame. I shuffled, restless, hugging the sheets closer to my naked body, somewhat chilled by his absence, but I wasn't bothered for I hadn't been sleeping deeply anyhow.

I was thinking, dreading, counting the minutes that turned to hours; counted the moment when John and I would depart to the airport and journey three thousand miles over land, mountain, and prairie to New England; awaiting our arrival, nestled on a vast stretch of land, a mansion and everyone who resided within the gilded residence.

I tried to hone my thoughts. Not allow them stray and meditate on the moment John and I would pass through the gates and greet hard eyes and down turned mouths. I didn't want to reflect on the melancholy hour, friends would portray me as a foe, a traitor to X-Men morals and cardinal laws.

_Thou shalt not sleep or fall in love with the enemy._

My burdens rolled out of me in a heavy sigh. I flipped onto my back and stared at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" he asked

"Can you?"

"You're worried aren't you?"

I rolled my head on the pillow to spy out John in the shadows; eerily, his crystal blue eyes crossed the spaced that divided us, and held mine with great intensity.

"No," I lied. I watched his mouth curl into a sexy sneer and saw the motions of his hand glide over the lighter squared away in his right hand.

_Click._

Instantly, a tiny flame flicked to life illuminating a well proportion face and prominent lips, sweet and sumptuous. Lips that had delivered endless amounts of pleasure earlier in the evening. Heat spread like a raging inferno across my body, a wealth of desire sent tingles down to my toes, and a crimson shade dimmed my cheeks.

"You need to learn how to lie better."

I narrowed my eyes warily. I hated how he treated me like an impetuous child. "Would you rather I tell you I'm terrified? That I'm afraid Logan would shred you to pieces."

He laughed. "I can handle the big bad Wolverine and the rest of those pansies hiding behind the Xavier's foolish notions of peace between mutants and humanity."

I grew cold, disliking his words.

Magneto's vicious ideals had apparently sunk deep into him and had taken root. I hoped to sway him. I wasn't expecting him to become an X-Man; however, I didn't want him returning to that madman's services if he ever chose to resurface. It made me wonder. If my powers were evolving, and John was growing in strength…what of Magneto. Bobby told me of the four doses of the cure he had received on Alcatraz. His mutant power would be monstrous now, earth shattering...

"Rogue."

"Huh?" I focused my eyes on my boyfriend and he arched a brow at me.

"Daydreaming again," he snorted, the right corner of his lip went up. "You should see a psychiatrist about that." His words grated and I glared at him. "You're gorgeous when you're angry."

Taken aback, I saw him rise from off the ground and close the distance in three slow strides. He sat down on the bed, his cobalt eyes penetrating, never veering from my own. He set the lighter aside on the nightstand and combed his fingers in my hair, delving through the knotted locks to take part of my platinum strands in between his thumb and forefinger.

"I love your hair," he whispered, sending shivers rocketing throughout me as he leaned close to plant a kiss on my lips.

I awoke in the morning, content and safe in his arms, almost wishing we didn't have to leave yet we found ourselves flying about my apartment finalizing and stuffing last minute items into our suitcases. Nervous fears sped up my heart as we journeyed down to the cab we had ordered to ride to the airport. A Christmas breeze greeted us. It was chilly for California. Rare. I snuggled into my jacket, while tucking the heavy duty coat designer from Sax and Fifth Avenue under my arm. I wasn't naïve about New York weather. I knew an industrial garment would soon be needed.

"Why did you have to pack so much shit?" John grumbled, shoving my carry-on bag into the back seat of the cab as the driver loaded our suitcases into the truck. "I hope there is room for us."

"Some of them are loaded with gifts John, so be careful." I remarked and then said with a glittering smile. "Don't worry I put your name on all of them."

"Swell," he muttered. "Let's go."

We climbed into the car and arrived to a glorious traffic jam. It was a major overflow. Hordes of people were entering and vacating the airport. Single people, couples, families, flight attendants and pilots swarmed the area; hoping to arrive to their destination to celebrate the holidays with friends and loved ones.

"John, grab a trolley!" I screamed once we were abandoned to handle our luggage by the driver.

"Yes master," he hobbled, mimicking the strange servant of Dr. Frankenstein.

"Funny," I said and helped him place our bags on the rack before entering the massive airport. I was calm and collected through the hustle and bustle and altogether once we finally boarded the plane. It was when we took off did the shadows of doubt and fear curl in my stomach.

"Worried?"

I looked at John. He frowned, obviously the little flecks of fear in my eyes, were not to his liking. "A little." I admitted that much but he could see the truth and I lowered my eyes. "I'm not ashamed of you John. I know what we have and it is real. But I-I doubt…they'd understand."

"I don't care if they do as long as they all know you are mine."

He spoke in such determination that it frightened me yet I was glad to be claimed by someone who wouldn't let me go. And John was just the sort of man. I took his hand and held it. It was strong, rough with calluses; the mark of a man hardened by toil and prejudice. I gripped it and grinned when he squeezed mine in equal intensity.

"Sleep," he said looking me over, noting the dark circles beneath my eyes due the lack of sleep hours earlier. "It will be over soon." He then turned and stared out the window.

"That's my wish," I whispered softly so he wouldn't hear and adjusted in my seat to gain a comfortable position and rested my head on his shoulder. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about our impending visit with _old_ friends.

The whole day was spent aboard the American Airline 747 before we touched ground in the airport. Maneuvering through a great crowd of travelers, we collected our bags and checked through customs. By then my nerves were rattled and my stomach was tight and a fretful sleep filled with turbulence and a lousy airline meal certainly didn't add to my spirit of Yuletides.

"You look like hell Marie," John teased, sipping a mocha cappuccino he managed to acquire at a Starbucks in the airport.

I wanted to strangle him and demanded why he didn't get me one, but merely shrugged and said I should gone ahead when he offered to watched the bags on his return. But I didn't want to stand in that never ending line. A hot shower and a bed were calling me and his incessant laughter was driving me up the wall.

I tugged on my heavy coat, glowering, I watched as he coolly walked out of the airport with the black leather jacket he wore into the blistering wind and falling snow. Onlookers stared horror stricken at the maniac wishing for death through freezing in New England weather.

I caught the eyes of some who pegged him a mutant and they moved silently down the sidewalk away from us. I gritted my teeth to stop them from chattering and stared at him, stunned by his manner. He was boldly declaring he was a mutant and didn't give the slightest care on what people thought. I marveled at his braveness and envied his power. Hugging my torso, I stood next to him, hoping to seep some of his good heat that pulsed in waves from his body.

"You're cold?" he asked his finger consistently heating the coffee in his hand as he looked me over.

My head dropped a notch. "You're kidding right," I chattered.

He grinned then heralded a cab. "Get in," he said opening the door for me then helped the driver load our bags in the trunk. Thank God for the creation of heaters for it was toasty inside and I found myself drifting off to sleep. A blast of cold air stirred me awake and I shot up straight in the seat. John apologized and instructed the driver on where to take us.

"Dat's quite a distance mac," the driver said.

"If you got the time," John said flashing the almighty green. "I got the collateral."

"You're speaking my language." The driver said jovially and pulled his cab out of park.

"Sleep Marie," he said draping his arm around me and pulling me against him. I let out a soft moan when I connected his warm body. Drowsy, I let the heat emanating off John's body loll me to sleep.

Quarter past three beeped on my watch, gently, John shook me awake. Yawning, I stretched and gasped softly in exhilaration to the glittering lights adorning a massive iron gate and a huge house in the background. It took me a few seconds to figure out we had arrived at the mansion and my heart started thundering in my chest. I looked at the driver then to John. He was sullen and quiet.

"Want to ring the bell or should I?"

I held my breath. "I'll do it."

John pursed his lips. "Make it quick, I wanna sleep."

I stepped out of the cab. A cold wind slammed into me so hard I nearly fell into a nearby snow bank. Clamping my arms about me, I hurried with great speed to the voice box mounted on a brick wall that braced the metal gate. With a gloved finger, I pushed the button and waited. The freezing chill increased each minute I lingered outside and I began hopping up in down to get my blood circulating.

"Come on," I stammered and pressed the button three more times.

"Who in the blue fuck—it's three in the goddamn morning—fuckin' house better be under attack."

I giggled. I could only guess who that was. "Logan it's me—Rogue—open the gate."

"Rogue," he said in total surprise.

"Yeah, can you open up I'm freezing?"

"Jesus, kid, we weren't expecting yah till mornin'."

"I took an early flight. Open up," I literally screamed into the speaker. I didn't mean to but I was freezing to death.

"Sure." There was humor in his voice, but I knew it would dissipate the second his eyes laid on a certain someone I had brought home with me. Racing back to the cab I jumped in and snuggled next to my fire wielding boyfriend.

"Are we good?" John asked.

"Yes."

The black gate craned and swayed open and the cab drove inside and circled the brick round-a-bout to park in front of a massive four story mansion. "Nice place," the cab driver commented after he let us know how much his services had rendered.

"Thanks," John muttered, dishing out the fee. "It ain't mine."

"Visiting friends."

"No." He ducked out of the cab and slammed the door. He knocked on the trunk and the driver released it.

"He's not in the Christmas spirit is he miss?"

I shook my head and exhaled. "No."

When the driver finished flipping through the cash and a generous tip he got out the cab and went to aid John with the bags. Heaviness settled within me when I was left alone in the car. I entwined my fingers, shaking, doubt and fear coursing through my veins. It was a mistake to come here. I realized that now. John's mood had become ever more distant, chilling like Bobby's touch. Cringing, I set my eyes to the house, and glazed over the beautiful decorations that added to spirit of the season. A porch light came to life and the front doors open.

Wide eyes landed on Logan decked out in his traditional suit of jeans, white tank shirt and his tattered brown robe that had seen better day. Emotions swept me out the car and up the steps to greet the man who was more than a friend to me.

"Kid," he said swinging me into a huge bear hug.

"Logan." I smiled and pecked his cheek with a kiss.

"It's been forever." I felt him go rigid and knew he weeded out the two men depositing the bags on the steps; one sniff informed him that a traitor lurked in his presence.

"You actually brought him home! I know you're screwing the guy but—Jesus Rogue!"

"Logan, please." Shocked by his words and stared into his eyes and made a silent plea for him to be nice to the man I loved. Unwillingly, he grunted; a sign or promise he would be nice. It wouldn't be permanent. Logan never played the nice guy for too long. It never suited him nor did he try.

He moved past me his heavy boots pounding down the marble steps. I saw John's eyes trail to reach the towering six foot three mutant. He straightened to his full height, unafraid, ready for any assault. By then the driver had cleared the driveway and vanished in the waning night. I held my breath, expecting some sort of hard deliberation from Logan. Some verbal exercising his disapproval of John and our relationship. Amazingly he held his peace.

"Welcome home," Logan said in a gruff voice and bent down to take a bag.

"Yeah," John squeezed out and fixed his eyes on me.

I skipped down the steps and put a hand on John's shoulder. "Hey," I said. "Are you okay?" His tension eased only slightly at my touch.

"You want to stay here with these fucking people?" he sneered.

"John," I sighed. "They're my friends." I placed both my hands on the side of his face and looked him squared in the eyes. "And your friends."

"They're no friends of mine." He hissed.

The anger in his voice should have shocked me but I was only saddened by the fact that these three weeks would not be all to the good. I watched him grab a couple bags and march up the staircase and I hesitantly walked into the mansion.

Sighing, I took the remaindering bags inside and filed silently across the foyer. The mansion was the same. It smelled of polished oak and fresh flowers blowing in from the garden. I felt a strange sense of home and well-being as I followed John while he trailed Logan up the winding stairs. I wondered what he felt. What images crossed his brain while moving through the household of his school years.

"This is you," Logan said above an audible growl, putting his hand flat on the door of a bedroom, and pushing it open.

John charged in first and dropped our bags. Flicking on the lights, he surveyed our new surroundings and let out a hard grunt when he saw two single beds before him. "What the fuck is this shit?" he said gesturing his head to the beds.

I widened my eyes then fanned them on Logan. His expression was blank though his eyes betrayed the thoughts dancing in his brain. I shook my head. It was too late for him to try to protect my honor. "It's all we have left," remarked Logan. "The school is filled to the max, beside I wasn't expecting you bub?"

"I wasn't anxious to be here."

"They why don't you leave."

John stood firm like a soldier. His eyes were deadly. "Maybe I'll—"

"Guys please," I interjected in a loud angry voice. I was in no mood for this macho trip. "Logan, thanks its fine."

"Yeah," John said, glaring at Logan. "Besides we can always push the _beds_ together." I saw the way Logan's eyes shot wide from the way John pronounced the words beds. Grinning deviously, he turned and stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door close.

I heard Logan ease out a growl and shook my head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for him," he barked. "It's too convenient for the little dick."

"Logan," I said tears stinging my eyes. "You promised."

"Yeah." He grounded out before exiting the room.

I stood alone; slowly circling the room. I sank onto the bed, and tried to push the rest of what was to come in the morning out from my head. Ten minutes had passed and John didn't reappear. If I didn't know better he was probably planning his escape. Hiking up the window and scrambling down the wall as we speak.

Edgy from the long travel and the uncomfortable run in with Logan I stripped out of my clothes and started to rummage through our suitcases for something to sleep in. I found one of John's grey shirts and slipped into it. I felt gritty, yet didn't care. I was dying for sleep.

I turned and set to work on correcting our current sleeping arrangements. I unplugged the lamp and placed it on the desk. I then cleared the nightstand off the ground with ease and set it to the far side of the room next to the closet. It surprised me how easily I lifted the sturdy oak furniture, which should have been heavy but wasn't. Next, I pushed the single beds together and then spread a quilt over the top. I made up the bed with a sheet, fluffed the pillows and finally eased onto the mattress, pulling another blanket on top of me. I turned out the overhead light.

It was cold and lonesome without John. I yearned to feel his heat against me and his arms folded about my waist. I heard the door open and swallowed. I heard movement. He cursed as he stubbed his toe on something—probably the nightstand by the closet—and I stifled a giggle. I then felt the box spring creak and shake as he sat down on the bed. The blanket rose and I felt a thigh stretch against my leg and an arm close about my waist. I relaxed and snuggled into him. It was then sleep finally claimed me, and I dozed into a deep slumber.

* * *

**Mini Note: Hope you like this version and in this one Bobby is not aware that Rogue and John are together. It's going to get really heated in the next chapter.**


	5. Chapter V

Chapter V

_Pyro's POV:_

An itch to leave chaffed madly like a rash. Stirred awake, restless, I stretched my aching muscles and stared up at the ceiling. It took me a millisecond to process where I was as I regarded the rich stained wood of Oak. The smell of clean polish chocked me in a way the made me feel as if I was drowning. I shuffled in the sheets but encountered a figure nestling close to my side. I strained my head to right to see Marie slumbering peacefully.

I smiled.

At least one of us was getting a good night's rest. Moving close to her, I tucked a white strand of hair behind her ears. She sighed, pushing her face against my fingers, before snuggling into the plush pillow. My smile grew more pronounced. She looked so peaceful, so angelic, a taste of heaven after years of hell. I felt a tightening in my chest and flopped onto my back. It was a sensation I didn't recognize. I was all too familiar with hate and rage; this emotion was something different entirely and it tore through me like a raging inferno. Surfacing, stirring, it was far too difficult for me to classify.

A haggard breath seeped from my lips. Pupils strained to take in objects projected by the intense light streaming through the window. Looking at the nightstand, I gazed at the clock; the time blared in bold red digits. Quarter past eleven yet the mansion lay in silent tranquility. Hardly a footstep, a voice, trickled passed our door. I forgot mornings leading to Christmas; the intense quiet that was sometimes nerve racking, the joy of sleeping an extra two three hours before rising. Breakfast was the high point of the morning with hot cakes piling the plates, and sausage links and steaming hot chocolate.

Images of leisure, I purposely blocked them out because they failed to aid a cause that died on the outskirts of a prison facility. There was no true reason to feel when you're beaten by pain and hate daily. Feelings bruised and tortured the soul weakened a man. I crippled what was left of my frail humanity to better serve a one who envisioned a greater world, however, dreams without a leader died swiftly.

Eyes glued to the ceiling I strived to take in the whole situation, which up to this moment was still hard to comprehend. I couldn't believe I was back in the mansion; the mere idea of living under X-Men rules and regulation curdled my stomach. I came close to shaking Rogue awake a half hour after she had fallen asleep and tell her we were going to a hotel. I didn't want to suffer the indignity, the looks that branded me a Judas, and the malice glittering in various eyes.

I wanted out and fast.

Rogue stirred. She kicked actually, her painted little toes flicking out against my leg in frustration. I chuckled and watched her dive beneath the quilt as the sun touched her face. One thing was clear as I stared at her sweet façade; I would stay for her...for as long as my pride could stand. No other reason to remain in this luxurious penitentiary seemed sufficient. I was doing this for Rogue. I heard a breathless sigh and saw a brown eye peering up at me from under the quilt. Inching close, I grinned and placed a hand on Rogue's shoulder and rubbed her gently.

"Hey."

"Hmm," she moaned and blinked, her nose popping out.

"Sleep well?"

"Hmm."

"Hungry?"

She emerged, yawning, arching like a cat as she stretched. "Starved." Curling onto her side she stared up at me with those dark eyes and grinned. She favored a six year old for a second with her cheeks flustered and hair muddled by sleep.

"Indulge yourself in a hot shower. I'll see if I can scrounge up some food for us." I ripped the quilt off my torso and jumped to my feet, prancing in placed as I earnestly pumped blood through my veins.

"Are you sure you don't want me to look about breakfast?" I cast a look over my shoulder, contacting large brown eyes, wide with fear and unknowing certainty. Ignoring the pull in my chin, I grinned sheepishly; leaning close I joking pecked her on the nose.

"I got it. You freshen up."

"Okay," Rogue replies, twining her fingers in the cotton material, following John to the door. "John."

I spun on my heels, arching a brow. "Yeah?"

"English muffins instead of bread okay?"

I merely nodded and stepped out into the hallway and strolled by closed doors. Whispers abound from a bedroom nearby, some girls were laughing. About what I didn't know nor did I care; they sounded like Jubilee and Kitty and I rolled my eyes, annoyed by the thought of motor mouth and her mousy friend. I turned right. Up ahead, light streaming through a window bounced off the mahogany wall, enhancing the color and texture of the stained wood. I remembered where the kitchen was located as I descended the stairs. I could find it with my eyes close. This house, its design and structure, was still tattooed in my memory, much to my displeasure. Truthfully, I didn't want to recall the heydays of this institute of learning. I was never a good student and I always got into a heap of trouble. The Professor always seemed to want to bottle my spirit, my enthusiasm. Transform me into a mild mannered citizen by day and X-Men by night and the mere idea of waking up to a six by four feet cubicle office appalled me. I guess that's why I chose the path less traveled.

Coincidently, I think it was expected of me. Destruction was my power. An ill-temper was my nature. It would be difficult for me to swallow a simple, quiet, life. Yet I was experiencing such a development in my relationship with Rogue and it had been nice till now. Arrival in this mansion had left an odious taste in my mouth. I knew it was just a matter a time before every soul in this house would poison her against me. The smell of coffee hit me and I frowned. Someone else was seizing the opportunity of this quiet morning. Logan! Great, his presence was all I truly needed today. Grinding my teeth, I entered the kitchen, determined not to quarrel with the feral man. I was determined not to burn anything.

"Didn't think you'd still be here bub?" Logan grumbled. He held two cups of coffee in hand, which only led to the conclusion he had somehow manage to smuggle a woman into the mansion. I shook my head. It seemed like without the Professor in attendance, moral decency of this house was going down the toilette.

"Rogue wouldn't have it any other way," I said coldly, challenging the dark man's harsh demeanor, and remaining undeterred in my agenda not to quarrel with him. Opening the fridge I took out eggs, bacon, and sausage. I bent down and pulled out a three skillets and placed them on the electric stove to heat. Adding vegetable oil, I waited three seconds then dished out the breakfast items. I grinned with delight as I watched the food sizzle and cook.

"Just what's your relationship with her?" he demanding, standing right behind the annoying little flame thrower.

"As you saw it," I remarked scrambling the eggs and putting it onto two plates.

"Look bub, it would better for every one if you'd just disappear in the next half hour."

I spun around, glaring. "You'd like that but I'm not going anywhere, least not without Marie."

He hovered, furious, eyes black as coals. "She will never be yours to have," he hissed. "Plus I don't like the fact that you're with her."

"She likes it."

Ferocious hands, large, melded with adamantium seized my grey shirt slammed me into the cupboard. A familiar heat skated along my finger tips as the essence of fire swam in my veins. So much for temperance and the promise not to have an all out war with anyone residing in this household. A thunderous burst of heat and flames sends Wolverine scaling over the island and crashing into nearby table and chairs. The smell of burnt flesh and charred clothing sets off the fire alarm in a matter of seconds. Rivulets of water cascade into the kitchen.

I stood over him, my eyes glittering in rage. "Don't think I'm going to stand and take your shit Logan." He looked at me, pupils large in wonder and confusion. His vision falls to my hands still flickering despite the torrent flooding the kitchen. I knew he was searching for my Zippo and was probably stunned to see I no longer required the lighter to offset my powers.

"You fucking little shit," Logan sneered, pouncing to his feet, claws sliding cleanly out of his flesh. A lopsided grin peeled my lips into a devious smile. I stood, ready and waiting, wondering if I could potentially melt that fucking metal off his bones.

"Logan! What the _hell_ is going on? The whole house is underwater! John?"

We turned precisely at the same time to view Ororo Munroe dripping in her white silk nightgown. Her voluptuous body pressing against the wet material, making her quiet appealing. I saw the look that on Wolverine's face and became curious. Was there something going on between the good Wind Rider and the Wolf?

"John?" It was all she could say, her mouth fell open, and her complexion grew pale, even for her.

"Yeah," I grunted. "I'm alive."

It took her less than a minute to figure out what was going on as she looked from Logan to me. She frowned and turned to leave the kitchen, apparently, to find the water pump and shut it off.

"This ain't over bub." Logan pointed his at me and headed in the direction Miss Munroe had gone. I kicked a broken chair leg aside, once alone, ticked this drama had to come down. I didn't want to fight Logan. Had no intention, but the scumbag had it coming. It was a long time anyone had ever grab me like that. Something snapped in my head. Crossing the kitchen floor, I eyed breakfast, a delightful treat for Marie ruined.

"I shouldn't have come—" I soured and wiped water droplets out of my eyes the instant to the sprinklers ceased.

"John?"

Slowly, I rotated by body to face the voice coming from the entrance to the kitchen. I felt the anger within dissipate at the sight of Marie. I went to her and pulled her into my arms, somehow needing to hold her.

"What happened?"

I tilted my head back as if judging the question then looked into her eyes. "I can give you two guesses but you're only gonna needed one."

------------------------------------------

Amazing what living in a mansion filled with mutants could produce. For starters clean-up was a breeze. There was a student with an uncanny ability to absorb and condense water molecules into gaseous vapors. Jon was another kid with a kinetic link with electrical currents. It took him two days to restore all systems in the house from a simple radio to the most sophisticated equipment. I would have apologized, if I were given the chance, yet why should I? The undomesticated amnesiac assaulted me first. What was I to do? Needless to say, I doubt I would receive any understanding and forgiveness. Four days after the afternoon shower inside the household, Marie and I were swarmed with students new and old and as I predicted the eyes were very unfriendly.

"Sorry John," Kitty said, an annoyed look on her face, as she hustled me out of our room. _Our room_! "Girl talk."

"Start talking!" I heard Jubilee's voice scream through the wood door. I started walking away, ever mindful of the harsh words seeping through the wall. I shook my head. These guys actually believed I couldn't hear them when I was several feet away. I heard Marie as plain as day; she was on the defensive and I smiled. Nice to know there was one person in this house who was sticking up for me. I picked my way through house, walked through a maze of rooms and study areas. Man! I sincerely had forgotten how large this place was.

I escaped into the backyard and walked across the manicured, lawn, breathing the fresh scent of cut grass and flowers. I rounded the back portion of the house and spotted three head stones. The largest of the three bore the Professor's impression. I felt a pull in my chest, a fleeting guilt, and shame. Recalling my callus statement that I would have gotten rid of the Professor if I had been given the chance, I shuddered. I didn't know if I meant it at the time. I guess I was trying to impress Magneto. Boy that was a slap in my face. The fire sitting on at the foot of his head stone was dying and sank onto the grass. I stretched out my hand; the red and yellow flames licked my fingertips.

"Don't touch it! Get away from there!"

I recognized the voice that cut into me and darkened as I flash of memory hit my thoughts. Fist squeezed tight I rose. "Drake," I said in a low murmur.

"Pyro." He spoke my name in cold hate; I could feel it emanating from his mouth. "Alive and well."

"Not dead enough for you," I joked and he scowled.

"No."

"Sorry to disappoint," I clucked my tongue as we engaged each other in a visual stand off.

"I heard you're here with Rogue. I didn't want to think it was possible till I saw you out here," he glowered. "You got a lot of nerve being here Allerdyce."

"Did you think I want to come back?" I cried. "I'm here because Marie insisted, nothing else."

Bobby cocked his head to the side and arched an eyebrow. "Marie?"

I took this opportunity to strike where I knew it would do the most damage. "Oh right," I grinned, sheer mockery curving my lips. "Rouge never did tell you her real name now did she?" The alteration in his facial features pronounced I was cutting into him deeply. I considered it payback for that nasty stunt on Alcatraz as well as other things. "Marie and I have developed a thing, and dear I say, she's has skills I dare not think possible." The blood drained from Drake's face and my smile enlarged. Assuming our conversation had come to an end, I headed towards the house.

"Enjoy it while you can," he shouted. "You're just a distraction as far as I'm concerned. Sooner or later you're true colors will shine."

"You think she'll go back to you."

"It's happened before," Bobby smirked.

I didn't know what mad consciousness split inside my head but I was consumed in a pillar of fire in a matter of seconds. Flames encased me in a rapturous cocoon, singeing my sweater, jacket and pants. Burnt pieces fell and scorched the grass. I must have been an unholy sight because I saw Bobby backing away in fear. The inferno didn't last long enough to cause major damage to rest of my clothes. "Stay away from her," I warned. "You may have beaten me once but you won't be so lucky next time." I walked fast, cleared the field and was in the house in a matter of seconds. Heart pounding I swept up the steps and charged down the hall.

"...so you and John are you together...you...Bobby...not gonna make...try..." I nearly kicked the door off the hinges when I heard that mousy little mutant, Kitty, mention the very idea of Marie reuniting with ice dick.

"Get out!" I bellowed, causing all three of them to jump and scatter. I whirled to glare at Marie. "Start packing, we're outta here."

"What happened to your clothes?"

"Don't worry about it," I grumbled, stalking to closet to throw the doors open. Grabbing at shirts, coats and jeans, I threw them onto the bed. I turned to see Marie standing in front of me, arms folded. "Don't just stand there," I headed to the armoire and plucked out undergarments clean out the oak furniture.

"I must admit this is far longer than I expected you to last," she said.

"You're just lucky I didn't wake you the night we arrived. I was ready to leave this fucking place."

She came to me, brown eyes furrowed in a question, worry sparkling in their depths. "What happened John?"

I released a haggard grunt. "I had a run in with your ex!"

"Bobby," she cried. "What did he want?"

His very name spoken on her lips was enough to induce my pent up frustration. "To tell me to stay away from you," I spat. "Just like Logan."

"Logan, what happened with Logan?"

I whirled around, tossing, a bag onto the bed. "I don't want to talk about it!" I slammed drawers closed and stormed into the bathroom. "I figured this was a bad fucking idea." I came out to see her sitting on the bed, hands folded in her lap. "We should've never come here. We could have had our own Christmas back in San Francisco."

"It meant so much to me to see my friends," she said. "Everyone thought I was avoiding them because I had taken the Cure and didn't think I was still welcomed. I was so relieved when Logan asked me to come home for the holidays."

"Really," I twisted my mouth in contempt, Bobby's words emerging in the back of my head, causing my blood to boil. "Or could it be you just wanted to be close to Bobby again." I saw I had hurt her but her shocked expression suddenly turned into a scorching gaze as she shot up to her feet.

She crossed to the desk, a hand on her temple, shaking. "What is it going to take for you believe Bobby and I are over?"

"Are you?" I attacked.

She flashed me an angry look. "Don't start that again John!" She softened and walked to me, cupping my face in her hands. "When are you going to trust in us?"

"Marie—"

"John—I—love—you."

I was at a lost for words. I literally felt my heart skip a beat, a strange hot and cold sensation washing me over, as though a soft wind would knock me down. No one had ever aspired to love to me; my own mother and father abandoned the parental duty to love me despite circumstances. How was I to truly respond to such a sentiment of sincere affection? I looked into her face; happiness curved her beautiful, exquisite, features.

Opening my mouth, I tried to give the reply she desperately wanted. Instead, I held her close and kissed her forehead, my heart hammering. I felt her arms glide up back, over my burned sweater. I drew back and yanked the charred materials off my body. I didn't want her touching me when I was like this. A kiss planted on my chest took me by surprise. I lowered my eyes; the look in her chocolate opals was heady, hard to miss. I picked her up and carried her back to the bed and laid her down gently, kissing her slow, plucking at her dark green camisole.

"John," she moaned as I left a trail of moist kisses down the side of her face and neck.

"Yeah," I murmured.

"Lock the door."

I grinned and rose to turn the latch.

* * *

**Mini Note: I hoped you like this chapter. Sorry it took so long, I was contemplating the idea for a while and didn't know if I should put it in this form. If you like I might do more chapters this way. **


	6. Chapter VI

**Author's Note:** I'm so glad I finally got this chapter down. For while I had writer's block and was practically staring at blank screen. Anyhow, its here for you're reading pleasure. Thank your for all the fabulous reviews and support. In answer to a few reviewers questions about Rogue, the answer is 'yes', her powers will steadily alter to the Rogue we all know and truly love. I'm still reeling that they didn't do it that way in the movies.

* * *

Chapter VI

_Rogue's POV:_

_Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock..._

Beloved Christmas classics and songs of chestnuts roasting on open fires hardly inspired any bouts of holiday cheer within the opulent mansion. It merely grated on tender nerves and increased tensions and poured salt on old wounds. I must admit, I was stunned by the borderline peace that seemed to consume the household, particularly after a hostile encounter in the kitchen that ended in a monsoon. By now, everyone within residence was aware of a traitor's return. I wasn't disheartened, but upset. Everyone had a critical opinion; although few words were uttered, their actions spoke loudest. Impassive eyes, tight lips and wayward expressions, greeted either John or me each morning, but we weren't truly bothered. John made it his mission to keep to himself and I honestly enjoyed his company. I felt a crimson heat touch my cheeks in thought of John, not the bitter angry mutant that crashed into our bedroom a few days ago, and scaring my friends away. But a sensitive, tortured soul, only closed doors could reveal. Trouble was his inability to fluently express emotions that tossed in his heavenly eyes. In my heart, I knew by his subtle touches, his loving caresses, he wanted to whisper three words I had granted him. But his silence chilled me more than his touch.

I sighed and picked through precious trappings to be borne on the Christmas tree Logan had plucked straight out of the forest. Trimmed and smelling vibrantly of pine, I handed an ornament to Ororo decked on the upper quadrant of the ladder. She flashed me a small smile then shifted to place the crystal ornament on a branch. Unlike everyone else in the mansion, she had not opened her mouth to voice an opinion on John's reappearance. In fact, she hadn't said but a few words to me. This morning just as I was about to take some breakfast upstairs for me and John to share, she asked if I would like to help decorate the tree. She knew it was a favorite pastime of mine even before I had arrived at the mansion. I could recall days at home where mom and I would spend the whole day seeing to the perfection of a tree we had acquired off the lot. I remembered the way the tree came to life, its beauty. It always brought warm feelings to my heart.

"Hand me some tinsel will you Rogue?" Ororo asked.

The sound of my name jolted me out of reminiscence and I looked at her. "Marie," I corrected picking up a package of silvery streamers.

"What?"

"Marie, Ororo, my name is Marie."

"I know," she let out a small laugh. "I thought Rogue was what you preferred seeing how—"

"Not anymore," I exhaled, opening another box of crystal ornaments.

"Not since—"

My eyes reached her somber gaze. "Not since I took the cure," I finished for her.

"I wasn't condemning Rogue," she said.

I lowered my eyes. "I know—it's just—"

"R—Marie—taking the cure was you're decision."

"Even if it was the coward's way out."

Ororo swallowed, haunted by her angry tirade the moment Hank revealed to her and the Professor about the cure. "I didn't mean—or—maybe I did—I don't know—" She lowered her head. "I don't know anything anymore."

"Miss Munroe—" I went to her, thrown off by her sudden sense of a helplessness, and confusion. I have never I seen her like this. She was always strong-willed, together, and in control. Sometimes I teased her about it, but today, there was nothing to laugh about.

She shook her head. "Please," she said with a hapless laugh. "Call me Ororo after all, you're no longer my student.

"Alright," I grinned. "Let's try to push on forward. We shouldn't let what happened eighteen months ago stop us from living."

"I agree." She wiped a tear from underneath her eyelid and her smile grew pronounced.

"So," I said after a moment. "What's been going on here since I've been gone?"

"You tell me?" she arched a brow.

"What do you mean?"

"John," Ororo said without the slightest hesitation.

I blushed madly, dropping my head, platinum locks brushed against my ruddy cheeks. I really didn't know what to say and started to untwine a string of lights. "We—sort of—just—happened. It wasn't intentional. Neither was I trying to hurt anyone."

"Bobby doesn't see it that way."

I grimaced. Ororo had gone straight for the throat. "Bobby is the least of my concerns," I said flatly, handing her the end of the string of lights I was able to untangle.

"The two of you did date for almost three years," Ororo said.

"And your point is?" I barked arms folded.

The white haired mutant let out a deep breath and came down the ladder. Her blue eyes were so rich with concern that it laid siege to my conscience. I straightened, but felt no guilt rise inside of me, only annoyance. "Aren't you at least concerned for Bobby's feelings? He's been moping around the house since you arrived and you being here with John has not made things easier."

"I wish I could care Ororo, but he didn't, especially when I told him I had doubts."

She blinked, drawing back stunned. "Doubts."

"Yeah," I muttered. "Doubts about taking the cure, which to my surprise Bobby was more than thrilled I had gotten rid of my mutation. He felt it was for the best, but not for us—it was _best_ for him." Hot tears blistered the corners of my eyes, stunned, I lifted my face heavenward.

"Marie—"

"Everything alright in here?"

"Yes Logan," Ororo thrown off by Logan's appearance, reclaimed her position on the ladder. "We can light the tree soon."

I turned to see Logan standing in the doorway, his prowess dominating the room. I resumed my task of opening the boxes. Heavy footsteps echoed in the study, I pretended not to acknowledge him. I was angry at him for breaking his promise. He swore to keep his feelings towards John to himself. Instead, he lashed out in pure, Wolverine mode.

"Hey kid," I heard his voice in my ears and slammed the box down. Twirling on my toes, I vacated the room; I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction in knowing our friendship was still an open door policy, especially after he turned his rage on John.

"What the hell was that all about?" He snorted gruffly, scratching his overgrown side burns.

"After what happened in the kitchen, she's still a little upset that you attacked her boyfriend." Ororo climbed down the ladder and picked up the essential element and focus of the tree, a dulcet angel shrouded in paper to protect the porcelain features of the figurine.

"Please don't speak of him as her boyfriend," Logan growled. "Its bad enough the little dick is here."

"Mercy what a tongue," Ororo admonished.

"Never bothered you before," he grinned.

She let out a haggard breath and tried to hide the heat tingeing her eyes and the glow on her face as she scampered back up the ladder. She nearly shrieked when she felt his hand slide up her right leg to cup and squeeze her rear. She fell off the ladder and landed safe in his strong awaiting arms.

"Careful, I wouldn't want you to bruise that rear I love so much," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Logan," she pressed her hands palm flat against his chest as his arms enfolding her. "Someone will see us?"

"Let them see," he murmured, taking her mouth in a fierce kiss.

----------------------------------------

I didn't know which was a major shock? Seeing Logan and Storm locking lips or his crass statement veered towards my fire breeder. I could guess he would eventually turn to the weather goddess now that Jean was no longer in his line of vision. I suppose a part of me could be a little jealous of her and the other woman laid to rest on the school property. But I wasn't the slightest bit rankled by the scene. I was delighted they had found each other. Ororo was the sort of woman that would appease Logan's feral nature and he in turn would rouse her wild side. Hell! Opposites did always attract like the polar force of a magnet. Leaving them to the seclusion of the study, I found myself wandering the mansion, my thoughts a blur. Ororo's comments thundered in my brain, narrowly giving me a headache. Her defense of Bobby made my insides twist.

_Mope_.

True, I had spotted Bobby's cold façade in the far corners of the house, but a somber glum did not contuse the line of his face. Untrained eyes might have mistaken his gaze for sadness, but what I saw was hatred. He hated me. He hated John, but most of all, he hated the mere idea of us. It was just his bad luck for he was going to have to bear his odium alone. What astounded me were the tears that manifested during my conversation with Ororo? I couldn't imagine after all this time was bitter about my break with him. I wasn't paying attention and collided into someone coming in the opposite direction. Cold hands touched my bare arms. It was like being hit with ice water and my eyes surge upward.

Bobby!

I nearly scrambled out of his touch to place a good yard between us. We stared at each other for a second. It was one of those awkward moments in life no one would want to endure, the silence, the tension, and obvious unresolved issues.

"Bobby." With a curt nod, I shifted to the right and proceeded on my endless wandering through the mansion. Instead, a furious hold gripped the upper length of my arm, and I was swung around. "Hey," I shrieked.

"We need to talk," he said in a low hum as he half dragged me into a private study and threw me inside.

"Well," I huffed, rubbing my arm. "I can finally add gumption and aggression to your DNA." He didn't turn to face me but remained pressed against the door as if barricading it. "Bobby, let me out."

"H—w—why?"

I cocked my head to right, unsure I had heard him. "What?"

"Why Marie," he moved slowly, rotating his body to reveal the bitter anguish in his eyes. "Why him?"

Pursing my lips into a scornful twist, I folded my arms across my chest. I figured this conversation was long over due. "Why not him? Why not John?"

"You could have done a tad better," he snubbed.

"After you Bobby," I straightened. "I don't think I can do worse."

Pained flickered in his eyes and he turned his face from mine. "You still haven't forgiven me."

"Why should I?"

He crossed the room in two strides. "Marie, I was wrong for what I said. It was a slip of the tongue."

"Really," I looked at him with emotionless eyes. "You sounded extremely sincere."

"You take things out of proportion that was always your problem," he snapped.

"I take things!" I exploded. "All you did was _take_ in that horrid relationship of ours and you gave me nothing." I moved to flee, but he caught my wrist, and pulled me roughly to him.

"I gave you my heart," he bellowed, "yet you stomped on it when you arrived here with _him_!"

"Feelings mutual," I hissed. "I told you I was scared, regretted my decision. I felt like a murdered half myself and what did you tell me." I put two fingers on my chin as if I were seeking the response. "Oh, yes, it was for the _best_! And it was for the best—it gave me the chance to see what a spineless asshole you are!"

"I made a mistake," he lowered his head, shaking.

"Don't I know it!"

Electric blue eyes reached my face and I shivered. Not in delight, but in disgust. Bobby's touch was so counter to John's warmth and exuberance that it repulsed me. "Can't we just give it another try?"

"Not on your life."

His countenance darkened and his hand tightened with a slight artic chill that was paralyzing. I looked down at his hand. It was ice blue. "Bobby, let me go."

He made not effort to release me. His hand held my wrist like a frozen manacle that was slowly inching its deathly coldness up the length of my arm. I could feel my blood literally begin to freeze and my heart strain in great exertion. I felt as if he was sucking the warmth and life out of me. My eyes shot wide. Was he trying to kill me?

"Bobby! Let go of me!" My plea turned to anger and in an outburst of rage, I pushed at him with my free hand. He surged into the air, flying back five feet, and crashed into the wall. I stood there, stunned as he struggled to rise, but blanked out and crashed back on the floor. I stared at my hand as if it were a foreign object then looked at my wrist. It was gradually taking color but there was a freezer burn from where Bobby's hand was brutally ripped from mine. I panicked and raced out of the study. What happened in there and where did this sudden rush of strength come from? I read in a biology book that in certain dire situations, adrenaline enabled a person to have the strength of ten men.

I paused and glanced back at the private study at the end of the hall. I shuddered and high tailed it to my bedroom. I slammed the door shut and stripped out of my clothes. Diving under a torrential hot shower, I scrubbed my wrist and body clean, then sat down on the hard floor and allowed the waters rush over me. I couldn't describe my emotions which were now in a whirlwind and tears intermingled with the raging water. I didn't want to believe they were being shed for Bobby. I lifted my face and allowed the gushing water to wash them off my face.

I must have stayed there for an hour, for when I finally crawled out, it was fifteen past one. I dried and dressed in a long sleeve blouse and jeans, desperate to cover the welt on my wrist that turning red with a tinge of purple. If John saw it, he would immediately put two and two together, and all hell would break loose in the mansion. Not that I wouldn't mind watching John beat the shit out of Bobby; the guy tried to freeze me to death. Was he demented? He had clearly gone over the edge. Nevertheless, this was the holidays and I didn't want to ruin anyone's Christmas. I had to do any and everything to keep John's mind occupied and I had to keep him from seeing the bruise on my wrist. It wouldn't be easy. John liked it when I slept naked or close to it.

As I stood in the middle of our room, trying to conjure a way to avoid a catastrophe, I didn't hear the door open and close. A hand slipped to my front and cradled my belly, soft lips kissed my neck. I yelped and shot into the air.

"Hey," John said, holding his hands in air. "It's me."

"John," I ripped my fingers through my hair. "Sorry."

"Not exactly the greeting I was expecting," he came towards me and wrapped his arms about me. "I was hoping for a little bit of this." He smothered me in a kiss that left me in a breathless and flustered. I held him close and squeezed him. Soaking in his precious heat, I felt my body come to life.

"Oh," I sighed. "John." I felt comfort in his arms and safety I could never dream possible. How was it I could feel such assurance with a man, who up till a year ago and half ago, fought side by side with Magneto?

"Miss me?" he murmured in my ears.

"Yes," I said drawing back to gaze into his brilliant eyes, so different from Bobby's, so filled with vitality. "What's that?" I asked noticing several bags sitting in front of the door.

He grinned and went to collect them and placed them on the desk. "Music," he said flashing a CD, "wine, lobster for tonight and a little something for me later on." He flashed a red negligee and I turned bright as a beet. My exhilaration died when I thought about my bruise and it didn't help that it was throbbing painfully.

I watched John finger the sexy undergarment and flash me an alluring look. "Maybe," he stalked to me, threading the item through his hand. "You could model it for me now Marie, boost a guy's expectations."

"Now," I said nervously.

"Yeah," he said. He laid it on the bed then held out his hand. I closed my eyes and went to him, careful to keep my wrist out of his line of vision. He placed both hands on my hips, kissing me thoroughly as he began to meticulously unbutton my jeans. Dropping to his knees, he pulled it slowly down and bid me to step of it. He kissed the back of my knee and smiled up at me. He rose to his feet and lifted my arms. I flinched when his hand brushed my bruise. Slipping his fingers underneath the soft material, he plucked my blouse off and tossed it aside. I stood in nothing more than my underwear, but I didn't feel vulnerable. I was excited, my pulse was hammering. I watched him watching me, saw the rush of sexual awareness flood his pupils. John always liked to look before he touched and oftentimes it drove me crazy in anticipation.

His eyes moved downward then rested on my face. He walked to me and I monitored every step he took. He circled behind and drew me against him, nuzzling my hair. "Well," his breath hot on my skin. "Perhaps we don't need this after all." He picked up the red negligee and allowed it to slip through his hand and fall to the floor.

I giggled. Turning in his arms, I cupped his face, and kissed him. When he took my wrist in his hands, it was there I had clearly forgotten to keep my bruise hidden and let out a gasp in pain.

"What's this," he demanded, lowering my right arm to inspect my wrist.

Uh, nothing," I replied, retrieving my hand from his hold.

"Marie—"

"I had a little accident while making breakfast this morning." I saw flecks of gold glimmer in his eyes. I looked away. I was never a good liar and I knew John was reading into me.

"He touched you?"

"I took care of it." I said afraid not for Bobby, but for John. Whenever this mood overtook him, he was a force to be reckoned with.

"He touched you!"

"I handled it." I wrapped my arms about his neck. Prayed I could ease the wrath brewing to the surface. The unpleasant smell of sulfur seep to through the pores of his flesh. His body temperature rose one increment a second. He was hot. Extremely hot. So hot he scalded my exposed skin. I reeled back in alarm and I saw a ring of smoke start emanate off his clothing. What was happening to him? "John?" I reached for him but he evaded me. He swung around and bolted for the door. I tried to stop him, but knew that was highly unlikely.

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**Mini Note: All hell is about to break loose. It's gonna be one hell of a Christmas. **


	7. Chapter VII

**Author's Note: At long last, I've finally finished another chapter. Thank you for all the reviews and support. I find it extremely difficult to write in first person and find myself slipping back to third. I constantly had to go back and catch my mistakes. LOL. Anyhow, here is a new chappie for you.**

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Chapter VII

_Pyro's POV:_

A sudden rush of anger barreled me down the lengthy hall towards a room garnered in the far side of the fashionable mansion. Within lay an old acquaintance with a power to alter the molecular compounds of water to ice. Visions of Marie's delicates skin and Bobby's foul mitts on her flared in my brain. Anger swallowed the better half of my good judgment. What reason and calm that had skated on the neurons had all but dissipated. I wanted revenge and would soon be satiated.

The bastard had _touched_ her!

After a dark warning forged on contorted lips, he had the audacity to plant his fucking hands on my girl. Heat skated down my forearms and tickled my fingers. As I stormed down the hall, curtains adorning the windows began to smoke, yet I was locked in my own vendetta to take heed. I would show him—once and for all—_who_ was the man in her life. And I was going to make it hurt. I skated round the left bend and sped towards Bobby's room. Images of a bruised flesh and frightened eyes kept pouring into my thoughts, heightening my desire for vengeance. Kicking in his bedroom door open, I swept into his room.

Grave displeasure soured my facial features. His room, as always, was neat and tidy. Jealously and rage tore into me. Didn't Bobby ever give this golden boy routine a rest? Not only had it been annoying during the agonizing years I roomed with the tight ass, but it had also gotten on my nerves. I brushed whatever lay within reach of my fingertips. Adding a bit of disorganization here and there and toppling books. Satisfaction formed my lips into a smile. There. The room finally looked as if a normal person inhabited it. But my new found pleasure was caught short when my eyes zeroed on a picture frame resting on his night stand.

Crossing the room, I picked up the frame and eyed the contents shielded by a thin layer of glass. To my disgust, it was a photo of him and Marie. Snuggled and cozy, Bobby sported a proud grin while Marie's eyes twinkled with the love she held for him then. Maybe even now. In spite of everything, she was ever determined to hide her bruise from me. And why? Because she wanted to protect me or Bobby? Instantly the frame torched in my hands and I tossed it into the garbage can. I listened as the glass shattered and the fire cackle and grinned. I was glad to be rid of the last evidence of their romantic liaison.

"Whatcha doing in my room Allerdyce?"

My eyes sank and deepened into a menacing hue as I turned slowly to face Bobby standing in the doorway to his room. He leaned against the post, arms folded, glaring.

"Nothing," I replied, eyes glued to his face.

"Really," Bobby said as he moved cautiously into his room.

"Just passing through."

"So pass through," he snapped, "and get out!"

When I didn't budge he marked me with curious eyes then snapped to the garbage now burning fervently. "Hey!" He raced to the flaming can and shot out sheets of ice, snuffing out the fire. "What the fuck—no—!" He dropped to his knees and plucked out the charred remains of the picture frame and held it like a cherished doll. His eyes smoked with fury and rose to my face.

"Hurts doesn't it," I jeered coldly.

"You bastard," he sneered, pain evident in his voice.

"Likewise," I hissed. "It's what you get for you nasty stunt with Marie, and if you ever go near—" He tackled me dead on, slamming me into the closet. I felt my muscles smart and go rigid from the impact. A series of punches laced my face before I was able to knock Bobby back with a strong upper cut. He staggered. His legs buckled against the side of the bed causing him to drop. Two kicks to his side curled him into a ball, but as I lifted my leg to lay another series of kicks he smoothed the floor with ice. I slipped and fell hard, banging my head into oak doors making up the closet. He jumped to his fee and clawed at my shirt, dragging me a few inches when I whacked his legs from under. He crashed onto the floor in a hard thud and let out a guttural whimper.

"Pathetic," I huffed, once I had reclaimed my footing. Dizzy spells slammed into me, the back of my head throbbed. I stumbled and braced the wall, watching Bobby whine and cry from the simple fall. "That's always been—you're problem Bobby—you've never developed—a—any endurance for pain." I sauntered victoriously to him and plucked his face off the floor and forced him to look at me. "Makes me wonder what Marie saw in you."

"At least," he garbled. "She—saw—something—and I—saw her—a _whole_ lot—of her." I stiffened, black shadows falling on my face. Arm drawn back my fingers squeezed into a tight ball. "No matter what you or say—my touch—blossomed her into—a woman."

Tremors surged through my raised hand, an odious entity overwhelmed me, and I wrapped my hand around his throat. I wanted to choke the grin off his face. Bobby struggled and kicked. His eyes screamed in terror. I relished in his agony and felt little mercy. I wanted him to die. I wanted to erase him from off the face the earth. Perhaps with him dead, I would no longer doubt Marie's vocation of love. Stalk her presence whenever she roamed the mansion. Awake to panic attacks and night sweats from nightmares of her back in Bobby's arms.

_Perhaps_.

Perhaps, I should have been more aware of the situation and the madness taking me over. Perhaps I should have noticed Wolverine on approach, sweeping into the room and knocking me over with a powerful blow. Bobby crashed the floor and coughed to life. Ororo knelt at his side and cradled him safe in her lap.

"Jesus John," she cried in horror. "You could have killed him!" She lavished her attention on Bobby, coughing and wheezing, shaking most violently. "Breathe Bobby—you're going to be alright—breathe."

"Just you and me now junior," Logan clucked, licking his lips. He spread his hands and grabbed my shirt and threw me rough into a wall. My will broke into a thousand pieces. An insurgent of flames erupted and scaled the walls, engulfing the room in a matter of seconds. It took less than a minute for Miss Munroe to rise and dash into the hall with Bobby in tow. Wolverine, however, had no such luck. A blanket of fire devoured him, sending him into the back quarters of the room. I could hear the screams of Miss Munroe match with the riotous wails of Logan somewhere in midst of the golden-yellow inferno.

Sprinklers burst to life, however, could not disengage the unholy blaze breaking out from the room and into the expansive hallway. More screams littered the household. I tried to put an end to the fury but could not bring myself to sever the blaze. Its hold on me was unparallel, as if another being was taking charged of all my mental functions and my brain was now obeying only furor's command. The flames swarmed and feasted on all tender objects in its path then suddenly retreated when a singular thought came to mind.

_Marie._

Her face penetrated the fires washing my brain and I sank to the charred floor shaking. I couldn't consider the very thought that I might have killed her along with everyone in the mansion. Distraught, wary, I escaped and surveyed the damages and terrified students weeping in the distance. "John!" I heard Marie call out and saw her filing through the crowd. Her eyes were wide with fear, like the others she looked at me as if I were an abominable thing.

I hated the way she looked at me.

"John—wait!" I didn't answer more or less wait for her as I turned and fled from the scene of my destruction.

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Ororo's POV:

Some might not call me a woman of faith. I've hardly had much to be thankful for in a life where one was abhorred for being different. Nevertheless, I've always tried to count the few small blessings granted unto me. Friends and health, I've cherished dearly, but in the last two years, I witnessed a number of those blessings dwindle. The lost of three of my closes colleagues and allies in a nation sworn against mutants was the heaviest blow. Sleepless nights and fears to another unsuspecting attack on the mansion seeped some of my strength and robbed me of my appetite. I couldn't imagine embracing the challenges left after the Professor's passing alone. Without Logan, I knew I would have ultimately been lost.

I gradually became dependent on his ability to take charge of any situation. His offhanded criticism and sly manner pulled me out desperate slumps. He reminded me that I was here for reason, even though, there were times when I knew he wanted to jump on Scott's bike and ride like the wind. Yet he stayed because he cared and I never realized until one night he stayed because of me. If it weren't for Logan and Hank both, I might have thrown in the towel, and sent the children home. I most definitely might have lost the mansion if not for Wolverine's super sharp sense that detected smoking coming from upstairs.

Standing amongst the debris and blackened walls of the east wing, I felt a sharp sense of failure cut into me. "Charles," I murmured under tears that slipped down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, I failed." The devastation lingering after Pyro's attack shocked me to a point where I felt weak. I turned and hurried away from the east wing distressed. I made my way down to the main floor and turned west. Striding pass the Professor's office, now my office, I came to a rotunda shaped door that protruded out a wall. I touched the button and it slid open.

"Ororo?"

I hardened at Rogue's voice and shifted to see the pale young girl approach. She looked terrified and willfully sorry. It would be so easy to be angry with her; after all, she was the one who brought John here. She was the one in a somewhat quiet plea forced us to accept him. Everything appeared to be working out just swimmingly but the truth set in like the ashes cooling upstairs. He didn't belong here, and Christmas, merely days away, was ruined.

"Not now Rogue," I said, exhaustion encircling me like a blanket. "I have insurance papers to file, contractors to hire, and I must see Hank about Bobby downstairs." I turned to enter the levitator.

"Ororo—I'm sorry—I never thought—"

"You're right," I snapped, "you didn't think. Like the first time you came here and ran away. It was always about you." I saw my words had wounded the girl, but it didn't really matter to me. I was angry and had every right to feel as I did. I took my eyes off her shocked expression and lifted them to the fluorescent lights fixed in the roof.

"How is he Hank?" I asked steeping into the metallic blue steel infirmary situated on the right hand side of the great hall.

"Snug as a bug in a rug," Bobby croaked and made efforts to smile, but I noticed he had trouble. I was stunned to see white layer of gauze dressed on his neck, blistered and red.

"I didn't think it was that serious," I said stunned.

Dr. Hank McCoy jotted a note in his clipboard and hung it on the end of Bobby's bed. "He's suffered minor second degree burns on his neck, which was gradually spreading to his face and chest. I've prescribed some Vicodin to take the edge off the pain and rubbed a cooling ointment. But his mutation was what really saved him. From what I've estimated from his burns, the damage might have been a lot more severe if Bobby's mutation hadn't systematically countered the heat threatening his body."

"That's why they call me Iceman," he chuckled and groaned.

"In my opinion young man," Hank said adjusting his glasses. "You're lucky to be alive, now you rest up while Miss Munroe and I have a talk."

"Just a moment," I settled on the bed, ever careful not to cause the young male any discomfort from the movement. "I need to know something Bobby. What caused that scuffle between the two of you anyway?"

"The guy's a fucking psycho," he shrugged, keeping the real details to John's violent attack to himself.

"What you're mouth young man," Hank rebuked. "It's a lady you're speaking to."

"Sorry," he shifted his head and gasped, looking me straight in the eyes. "I was minding my own business and I found the creep in my room."

"Did you do anything to spark his anger?" asked Hank.

He was silent for second then shook his head. "I did find him burning an old picture of me and Rogue and then he just snapped. I guess he's jealous of what we use to have."

"Jealousy is indeed a poor medium to secure love, but it is a secure medium to destroy one's self-respect. For jealous people, like dope-fiends, stoop to the lowest level and in the end inspire only disgust and loathing," Hank said with refined and polished elocution as he quoted a passage from Emma Goldman.

Bobby made a face. "What does that mean?"

Hank let out a heavy sigh. "It means you should read more." He touched the younger man on the shoulder and gave a hearty smile. "Rest up." He motioned for me to join him and I rose to follow him out of the chamber.

"What do you think Hank?" I wondered with great concern.

"I don't know," he scratched the side of his face with a large blue claw hand. "I want to believe Bobby, yet there's two sides to every story. You have no other choice but to speak to Rogue before making any decisions."

I lowered my head shaking it. "I've already came to a decision Hank, John must go."

He whirled around startled. "Now wait a minute Ororo, you can't come to a decision without—"

"He's too much of a liability Hank!" I cried. "His powers are unstable and so is he! He literally tried to burn the mansion down and almost endangered my students!"

"Charles Xavier built this place as a safe haven for all mutants," he said. "How would it look upon us if we cast out a mutant who was formerly one of his students?"

Tears welled in my eyes, I was shaking. "You weren't there Hank. John was like a man possessed by a demon. He could have killed everyone."

"I've read the boy's file," Hank sighed. "Xavier had trouble suppressing and controlling the boy, not to mention he's been in and out of foster homes, juvenile detention centers. He's been quite a problem for the law."

"And a great deal of trouble for us," I said quietly, recalling the numerous times I had sent him to detention and the Professor Xavier's office. "No amount constructive programs we provided seemed to alleviate his feral nature."

"It explains why he left to join with Magneto, but no matter, I feel it best that you speak with Rogue. She might hold the keys to John and Bobby's dispute."

"You think Bobby is lying don't you."

"Well," Hank cleared his throat. "He was madly in love with the girl and—I know—how it feels to want—a chance with someone—and lose it."

I drew back in alarm, mystified by his words. "Hank," I gasped.

He pushed a strand of hair out of my face with his large finger, stroking my cheek. "I waited too long." Lowering his hand, he journeyed to the far side of the lower levels and entered a small work room.

I could practically hear the splintering of his heart as he disappeared. I started trembling and couldn't stop. I was too stunned by the revelation and wrapped my arms about my torso. True, there was a profound connection between me and Hank, but he never made any insinuations that he cared beyond the friendship we shared. He was always sincere, polite and assertive. His boldness and dedication were often offset by a layer of skin that set him wildly apart from most mutants. I noticed that it made him feel vulnerable, ashamed even, and intimidated by women.

Taking the lift back to the main floor, I went over his avocations of love over in my mind, while climbing the stairs to see to Logan. Minutes after the fires had ceased, he had popped to his feet and staggered out of Bobby's bedroom. Flesh dangling from his skin immediately reset itself on his body. He grouped with anger from the prickling sensation and started in a mad search for John, no doubt to wring his neck. I barred his warpath and set him off to deal with the panicked students. I already had one person wounded and didn't desire and another fallen victim. However, I couldn't get what Hank had declared out of my mind.

'_I waited too long.'_

"Oh Hank," I cried and fought back tears. If only he had said something, if only there was someone for him. "If only—"

"If only what?"

I jerked in fright and spun around to find Logan towering above me. "Nothing," I let out a deep breath and clawed my fingers through my hair.

"Yeah I know what you mean," he grumbled. "If only that little shit wasn't here."

I eyed him sideways.

"What?"

"Have you seen Rogue? I have to speak to her."

"Last time I saw her she was heading back to her room." I moved past Logan and started down the other direction. "I have to talk with her."

"Let me," he said stopping me short. "You look beat. Besides, I want to clear the air between me and her."

"Alright," I nodded. "But go easy on her."

He smirked and kissed my lips. "Aren't I always?"

I tipped my head and made a face before leaving to make a few phone calls, and yelped when he slapped my rear.

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Logan's POV:

"Going somewhere?"

"Why should you care?"

Immediately, I got on the offensive. I should have known Cure or no Cure, a part of me eternally danced inside her head. I observed with mild patience as Rogue began to stuff clothes and shoes into suitcases. She looked at me one time before storming into the bathroom. I exhaled and let myself in.

"I didn't invite you in!"

I could tell she was angry because her accent was thicker than normal and her skin was flustered. "Give me a break kid," he huffed. "I had your best interest at heart."

"I don't think you ever had my interest at heart and I never asked you to become my protector, nor do I need one."

"Yes you do 'cause you've never made any smart decisions. And each time you ran away, or made a stupid ass choice," I bellowed. "I'm the one who had to clean it up."

She glared at me and spoke through gritted teeth. "I didn't ask you to! And I don't need you save me anymore!"

I threw my hands in the air. "Fine! But just think before make another of your so-called _brilliant_ choices." I watched her lift one of suitcase with ease and slam it on the ground.

"This is not a choice, this is an action."

"So you're just going to leave just like that."

"Right after I find John," she sneered and tugged on a jacket. "Then he and I are catching the first plane back to San Francisco. He was right. We should have never come here!"

"Oh," I snorted. "So you're letting that punk call all the shots now."

"He's a good man Logan!" She fired in outrage. "And you would all see it if you guys weren't on the defensive against him. But your opinions don't matter. I love John and I'm not going to let any of you ruin this for me."

Her declarations knocked the wind out of me. _Love?_ She couldn't love him. She deserved better than a two-timing henchmen of Magneto's. She broke out of the room and I rushed after her, determined to make her see reason.

"Rogue—wait—" I grabbed at her but she evaded me. "Listen to me!"

"No," she cried and shoved me hard. Her strength surprised me for she had sent me flying back a good feet. "Stay away from me."

By now our dispute was attracting a host of visitors and a heat of embarrassment rose in my face for one of many reasons. Firstly, a woman for the third consecutive time had me flat on my back. Secondly, we looked like a couple having a small dispute. God knows what I must look like to some of the students.

The word pervert came to mind.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I rose to my feet and started for my room. Ignoring the whispers and giggles, I faded behind closed doors. I tried to condense my thoughts and raging emotion when cries for help bombarded my eardrums.

"Fuck—what now—?" I charged out and galloped down the stairs to the foyer to see some of the students standing around Rogue's motionless body sprawled on the polished floor. "Jesus," I plucked her up into my arms and demanded answers. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Kitty said, her face wet with tears. "She started rambling then complained of a headache before she passed out. Is she—going to—be okay—?"

"I don't know, give me some room kids." I swung through the building crowd and hollered for Storm. She came bounding down the steps and covered her mouth in alarm.

"Logan what happened?"

"I don't know." I felt my heart twist as guilt's ugly hand strangled me. Was Rogue ill and had not told us and I might have pushed her over the edge? Dammit, why did I have to go charging into her room, weapons drawn? If I was itching for a fight, the person I should have crossed swords with was John. I carried her to the lift and emerged in the lower levels and shouted for big blue. He came hurrying down the hall.

"What happened?"

"Don't know. Kitty said she was complaining of a head ache then passed out. Can you do something for her?"

"Get her into the infirmary."

"What's happened to Rogue?" asked Bobby slowly pushing himself up to sit just as a procession of faculty and one limp Rogue in Logan's arms entered the chamber.

"Nothing," Ororo said and tailed the two men to an examination table. Hank slipped into a white coat and put on his glasses.

"Rogue?" Bobby cried out, walking towards the three, his burns making it difficult for him to make the effort. "What happened to her?"

"We told you we don't know Bobby," Ororo said. "You should be in bed."

"No, I'm fine. I want to be here for Rogue."

"Get him out of here," Hank muttered. It was all I needed to hear and proceeded to usher Bobby out the room. I knew it wasn't the big guy's protocol to kick a patient out of the sick bed, but I didn't think he could work with Bobby swarming and jabbering in his ears.

"No! I'm not leaving her. Rogue!"

"Come one kid," I said, literally dragging him out the infirmary. "Let the Doc work!"

"Rogue!"

Bobby could sure put up a good fight, but I managed to have him squared away upstairs. To ensure no further interruption, I changed the password that would deny anyone access to levitator. Rogue was going to need Hank's full attention.

Hours went by and I lingered downstairs pacing like a tiger trapped in the cage. Much to my displeasure I watched the good doctor run tests, x-rays, blood work, the whole nine yards. I felt the twitch of my claws and grew black with anger, ever reminded of the last time a group of doctors worked on me. I knew it was all for the benefit of Rogue, but it didn't mean I had to like it.

"Well," I demanded then second Hank entered the room again with his clipboard in hand.

He gave me a long look and took off his glasses. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"What?" Ororo asked worried.

"Something has sparked a new mutation to manifest in Rogue's DNA," he said. "But this is unlike the mutation she was born with. Whatever it is? It is modifying the X gene recently dormant due to the Cure and is slowly reconstructing her entire cellular structure to accommodate the mutation that will soon arise."

Ororo and I stared mouth's wide in astonishment. "Are you saying she's getting stronger?" I asked.

"That's precisely what I'm saying."

"You know earlier she knocked me off my feet without much trouble."

"Fascinating," Hank said walking to me. "What else did you note that was out of the ordinary?"

I glared at him. I didn't like the excitement rising in his eyes. "Nothing but a temper that mirrored mine bub."

He drew back. "I mean Rogue's best interest young man."

"Young," I cackled. "Buddy you don't know me like that at all."

"Apart from the mystery of you true age, you don't seem to act any other number above seven at times."

"Maybe that's because a bunch of educated dicks like you fucked with my head and—"

"Enough!" Ororo shouted. "Let's keep the focus of the discussion on Rogue."

"Exactly my thought," Hank said and turned to the female lying on the large flat table. I strolled to Rogue's side in great speed and marked the blue man's actions. He picked up a needle and I felt my claws peel out of my knuckles. Hank monitored my stance and carefully placed the instrument away on a tiny tray. I relaxed only slight and continued to watch him close. "It wouldn't do any good anyhow."

"What do you mean?" Ororo inquired.

"Rogue's skin has already re-forged to the first onset of her new powers."

"What?" I was unsure I had heard him correctly.

"Yes," Hank said simply. "Her skin has become invulnerable to any manner of assault. I can't inject this vile into her skin. The needle would merely snap like a twig."

"But you took blood from her earlier," said Ororo.

"It was probably due to the stress on her brain as her mind tries to adjust to the erratic changes undergoing in her body. I believe as one power arises like the strength you claimed she revealed, another shuts off for while so that her brain won't go into overload."

"Does this explain why she fainted?" Ororo touched her brow.

Hank gave no response. Silently, he wrote something in his chart and walked to the other side of the room.

"Is there something you could give her," I asked, suspicious of what he was documenting on his chart.

"Unfortunately no," he replied. "I need more time to monitor her and discover the source of what has sparked this phenomenon."

"But you still haven't given us reasons to why she fainted," Ororo said.

He turned around his eyes weary. "She's pregnant."


	8. Chapter VIII

**Author's Note:** Another chapter. Yay! I'm so glad. Wow! Only seven chapters up and already forty-eight reviews. I feel so loved. Keep them coming.

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Chapter VIII

_Logan's POV:_

_Pregnant! Jesus__ fucking __Christ_!

Black eyes squared on the sleeping kid, I took in the whole length of her body, before settling on her flat stomach. Hank's words suddenly slammed in. Rogue was pregnant...and that _son of a bitch_...was the father. A strange coldness slithered up my spine along with a complete sense of outrage.

How could she be so careless? Didn't she use precaution? Wasn't she on the fucking pill or something? Endless question slammed into my skull till I winced in pain. At that moment I yearned to do more than kill John, I literally wanted to twist a razor sharp claw in his stomach, and expose his entrails to daylight. I virtually wanted to shred him to pieces. The familiar prick of indestructible metal pinched the flesh between my fingers and slid cleanly out. Enraged, I thrust a menacing claw straight into a wall.

"Logan," Ororo cried out and I cast a dark look over my shoulder at her. Clearly, she was displeased by my current reaction to the whole news.

"How long?" I barked, barely able to spit out the words, slowly turning to glare at Hank.

"Not long," he replied, shifting his massive bulk on the counter he leaned against. "I would say at least a month give or take. I noticed a spectral image in her pelvis region while I was performing the x-rays. I thought for a moment Rogue might have developed fibroids until I used an ultrasound machine. It's a good thing our x-ray machines uses a refracted form of light to penetrate the body or the radiation emitted from an ordinary machine might have caused the fetus harm."

My lips twisted as though a foul taste were in my mouth. A month...a _fucking_ month...which meant that slithering piece of shit bedded her way back in November. I clenched my fists and started to pace.

Ororo swallowed, somewhat unable to sway her shaky emotions. "Is she going to be okay—considering—"

"Oh, yes, of course," he said in a cheery voice. "What Rogue experienced was one of the many normal symptoms women undergo in the first trimester. Mild headaches, dizziness, and fainting spells are all due to low blood pressure as her body adjust to the growing fetus. Nevertheless, this does bring some concerns to light."

"Like what?" Ororo opting to receive the impending bad news off her feet dragged a chair across the floor and sat down. As for me, I couldn't stop climbing the wall. Frustration and rage seemed to mount with each second. All I could think about was Rogue and the child growing inside her belly. I wasn't the happiest of guys at the moment, but never for an instant would I not be there for her, especially if that sniveling weasel abandoned her. And I had sinking feeling the sleaze would run with his tail in between his legs.

"As I elucidated earlier, her entire genetic structure is already altering, heaven knows how this process could effect the growth of the fetus."

I froze. "Are you saying something could happen to her baby—like—it could die?"

Hank's frown deepened, pronouncing the wrinkles in his brow. "This is the first case study of such an event I've encountered, there's no telling what to expect the next few months. I'll have to have close access to her, which means—"

"So much for your aid in mutant affairs," Ororo sighed willfully. "I'm sorry Hank—I could contact Dr. Moira MacTaggart if it's a problem."

"Nonsense," he straightened and smiled at the weather goddess. "I'll just rearrange my schedule and check in every two weeks to see that everything goes smoothly." Hank removed his lab coat and hung on the rack. He cleaned up his work station and washed his hands. "I would have to advise you all to maintain an open mind about this whole situation. I know John is not you're favorite candidate at the moment, but he is the father of her baby."

"Don't remind us," I grumbled.

The Secretary stared at me but I dismissed his stern countenance. Accepting the fact that John was the father of her baby maybe one thing, but there was no fucking way I was going to like it. A breathless catch of air tugged my sensitive hearing and I turned to see Rogue slowly regain consciousness. I let out a haggard sigh, pleased to see the kid was going to be alright.

_Kid?_

Rogue was no longer a kid anymore. She was going to be a mommy. "How are you doing kid—Rogue?"

She blinked and touched her forehead with a trembling hand. "Where am I?"

I took her hand and held it. "You're down in the infirmary," I said.

Her gaze reached the crest of my face, before exploding into frightened eyes that grew large in fear. "What?"

She started to rise but I pressed her back on the table. "Whoa! Take it easy."

"Why? What happened?"

"You took a nasty fall."

I just didn't know how to tell her. I guess deep down I still saw Rogue as that lost frightened kid I picked up off a lonely highway some while back. Now, she was a full grown woman and was going to have a baby, and the father was my _enemy_. I allowed Hank to take the reins. He broke the news far more gently than I could have. I observed the change in her expression. Her brown eyes enlarged and her right hand found its way to her belly. A gleam of happiness shadowed with fear and doubt cooled the blush on her cheeks.

Something jerked in me.

I couldn't believe she was going to have a baby. I faded into the background and listened as the eminent Secretary enlightened her on the do's and don'ts of pre-natal care. I also observed a change in Storm's countenance. She appeared somewhat delighted about the whole affair. I was relieved to see the stress of this mornings hell fire was melting the tension off her face. But something about the way she moved closer to Rogue, held her hand, and rubbed her shoulder. Ororo's movements revealed an intimate desire she kept well hidden.

She wanted children...someday.

------------------------------------------------

_Rogue's POV:_

I didn't know whether to be happy or scared? Whether I should leap for joy or crawl into a dark corner and weep? Dozens of emotion penetrated every cell of being; not to mention raging hormones, and a porcelain toilette bowl that had suddenly become my new best friend. Discomfort, nausea, and a disagreeable desire for the most unappetizing array of food, all had certain nosy people living in the mansion pecking into my business.

It wasn't long before the notorious Jubilee discovered what I and others in the circle of three that had seen to my care downstairs had discovered. I was pregnant. I squeezed back a laugh that ended in a shiver. Even in the cozy warmth of the mansion, I found it difficult maintaining an adequate body temperature. Perhaps it was due to another manifestation taking place, one Dr. McCoy and I had another endless discussion in the Professor's study. Or perhaps it was two days since anyone had seen John. Two _damn_ days since a terrible upset had rocked the foundation of the household and he had all but disappeared.

Where did you go John!

My heart screamed during the day and tears soaked my pillows at night. I tussled in fitful nights that delivered no peace of mind or sleep and I howled at people who crossed my path in the morning. The only pardon I received for my random outbursts, next to the crisscross eyes and haggard exhales, were rested on the pregnancy hormones sweeping my veins. But I didn't care what people thought of me anymore, which was surprising, only John mattered. There were moments I wished for the Professor's resurrection from the dead. He would find John I know he could.

Without Magneto's surreptitious stealth, the Professor would have been able to find John in a matter of seconds, and demand his return. Force him if necessary to come home, then I would strangle him for making me worry, before overwhelming him with kisses and telling him the good news. That's if he would see it as good news. Certain things didn't appeal to John and bringing a child—who would know doubt be a mutant—into a world riddled with hate was like an act of sin. He had made it clear—in a conversation that had spiraled into talks of marriage and children—he was in no position to be a father. Much less ready to become one. His words hurt, but he was being honest. How could I deny him that?

Helpless, I sat alone in our room, resting on the padded ledge that jutted out the base of the ceiling high window on Christmas morning. It was a White Christmas, just like ones I had seen many times since my arrival at the mansion. The downside to living in the South was the lack of snow. Restless hands fiddled with unopened gifts. We had the usual Christmas breakfast that was silent as a graveyard and the passing of gifts. I knew many blamed me for the dismal day. It was why I retired to my room the minute I was given my gifts. I had to get out of there anyway. I couldn't take the bitterness and angst slowly bubbling to a full scale volcanic eruption. I couldn't stand Bobby.

Up and limping about with Kitty on his heels, he goaded my nerves with his bogus sick man ruse. I was sure he was responsible for whatever it was that triggered John so violently. He stared at me with hatred and betrayal and I returned disfiguring looks with equal intensity. I was glad to see he had gotten exactly what he deserved. He could have received more, yet that didn't matter.

"John," I whispered and choked back tears. "I hope—"

Nausea.

In a flash I was in the bathroom hovering over the toilette bowl. I wanted to die right then and there. Afterwards, I struggled to my feet. I felt disgusting. Gripping the sink, I washed my mouth out and brushed my teeth. Splashing water on my face, I reached for a towel on the rack but it was barren. I swung around and saw Kitty holding it out to me. "Thanks." I took it from her and dabbed the cool moisture from off my face.

"Are you alright?" She asked, brown eyes, large with concern. I looked as she stood as if she were about to flee from my presence. I wanted to question why she was here; instead, I sat down on the toilette seat clutching the towel in my hand.

"I'm fine," I replied, rolling my eyes, and tucking a wayward platinum strand behind my ears. "As well as could be expected."

"I just can't believe—" She stepped into the bathroom, hesitant, her gaze fixed on me. She lowered her eyes to floor. "So, it's over for you and Bobby then isn't it?"

I reacted slightly. Was that why she was here? To ascertain whether there was a fleeting chance Bobby and I would patch things up? Foolish girl. It was what I wanted to say, but rather than tease the doe eyed mutant, I held out a hand suggesting she take a seat on the bathtub. "It's been over for a long time Kitty," I remarked. I dared not venture into details of my own jealousy and bitter misgivings towards her as my thoughts scratched the memory of a frozen fountain and a pair skating hand in hand. I dismissed the heinous recollection and shifted full front to Kitty. "Things changed—people change—I guess the love we shared—faded."

A pained expression contorted her dulcet skin. "I'm not so certain of that," she griped, wringing her hands. "I—I think—he's still—in love—with you."

It didn't seem that way. Bobby's anger was evident every time we ran into each other. He was mean and downright hostile. Where there was once love in his eyes, hate brewed. Sighing, I flung the towel aside; it hit the wall and slid into a hamper. "I never meant to ruin things for you."

Kitty straightened, stunned. "Ruin, what are you talking about?"

I cocked an eye. "Kitty," I exhaled. "The whole world knows you are in love with Bobby."

She held her breath, which seemed to last forever, before letting out the pent out oxygen in a puff. Her shoulders fell forwards as if a weight had been removed and she burst out sobbing. "It—its—all—wrong?"

All I could do was hold her and rock her gently; there were no words to relieve her anguish. Damn Bobby! How could he not care for so sweet a girl? Eventually, Kitty was able to contain her rattled emotions. Leaving the bathroom for the comforts of bedroom, we sat and gossiped on the latest affairs. Unfortunately, I was the center of the circle.

"I can't believe you're having a baby," she squeaked in delight, bouncing on the bed.

I shook my head. "It wasn't planned," I patted my stomach, like most things in my life.

"That doesn't matter," she said wistfully. "It's the first baby in the X-mansion. Oh, the Professor would have been so delighted."

"I know."

Kitty's countenance fell. "He would have found John too."

I clenched my eyes shut. "Let's not droll on that," I said heavily, touching my forehead.

"Rogue—"

"Did you see the gift Logan got for Storm," I said quickly changing gears. I didn't feel like unburdening my woes at the moment.

Kitty flashed a sad smile and nodded. "A charm bracelet, yeah, it was lovely." She smoothed the covers with her fingertips and looked at me. "Why do I get the feeling there's something going on between those two."

"You'd be surprised," I said snagging a sugar cookie from off a plate and offering her one.

"Really," she cried biting into the sweet treat. "Do you think Logan and Storm—"

"Logan and Storm what?" We both jumped simultaneously and peeled our visions to door. Solid, tall, Wolverine stood in the doorway arms crossed, a look of interest on his face. "You wanna tell me what's supposed to be going on between me and Ororo." Kitty blushed madly and wasted no time in rising and skating out the door. Logan glanced over his shoulder, before arching a brow at me. "What was that about?"

"Girl talk," I replied pushing a few gifts about with my feet.

"You haven't opened your gifts," he said, reclaiming Kitty's place on the bed.

"I'm not in the mood," I sighed. I heard him snort and narrowed my eyes. "Don't start Logan." I rose and began to walk about the room.

"I didn't say anything," he said defensively.

I whirled around glaring. "I know you."

"Fine," he scoffed, eyeing my movements. "But you're wasting your time."

"Logan—"

"It's been two fucking days Rogue."

"Logan."

"He's not coming back."

I slammed my fist into the wall. "You're the ones who chased him away!"

"Rogue—"

A headache split my cranium and I winced. "Leave me alone," I whimpered and escaped into the hallway. I walked by a few students who had come out to investigate the commotion and retreated inside when they laid eyes on me. I was a marked woman. Many were wise to stay out of my path when these tempers took me. Winding through the mansion, I reached the controlled environment of the greenhouse. Ororo kept the place a toasty 80 degrees. An ideal temperature for many of the exotic plants she imported. On edge, I moved about the tropical paradise somberly, touching a leaf or exquisite petal here and there. I tried to purge Logan's voice from my head, but they continued to circle like vultures.

_He's not coming back._

Tears broke free. I sank to the hard concrete and wept. It's not true. It couldn't be true. "John," I sobbed. "Come—home—I love you."

Meow.

Startled, tear filled eyes sought out the sound and found a black cat quivering beneath wild vines strung high and was now coiling about the leg of a table it hid. A cat—here—odd! I rose and beckoned the creature out from under the table. Its coat was smooth like black polish, reminding me of Ebony. "Where did you come from?" It purred and nuzzled into my bosom. I chuckled and started to carry the creature inside, finding it strange how I'm always rescuing stray cats.

Just as I stepped out of the greenhouse, I bumped into Logan. "There you are. Listen—Rogue—about what I said—hey—where you find him?" He asked nudging his chin to the cat in my arms.

"In Ororo's greenhouse," I said, stroking its fur. "Poor thing." I felt the animal tense as he approached and gently rubbed its back. But when Logan reached out to pet it, the feline hissed, swiped a paw at his hand, and scampered out my arms.

"Well—" he said in a low howl. "That's odd."

"It shouldn't surprise you," I said without feeling and started heading in the direction the cat had disappeared.

"What the hell is that suppose to me?" He barked after me.

"Do I have to sing it for you?"

After a successful search for the animal, I fed it milk and took it back to my room, grateful for the company. Retreating to the bathroom due to circumstances I couldn't control I came out moments later and froze in horror. Sitting in place of the feline, lips curled in a mocking smile, was a blue skinned mutant with glowing yellow eyes.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she clucked, crossing her long legs.

"Mystique!" I gasped.

"Darling," she drawled. "Don't you mean Ebony?"

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_Pyro's POV:_

It was wrong. So fucking wrong.

Need for speed increased with each sharp turn I took on the lone highway. Blinded by anger and inane sense of direction, I slammed hard on the gas pedal, and Scott Summer's sports car sped into the night. Quickly acquired through skills obtained from a gun toting mutant with a taste for thrill and grand larceny, I followed the road to perdition.

No one tailed. No one care.

Figures.

Shit!

It was all wrong and over so fast. Everything I had worked so hard to build— my life—Marie—destroyed. Fuck! Why? I knew why? It was doomed from the beginning; I saw it yet refused to believe it. I should have let her be. Leave her to a sad resolve of a severed relationship and a broken heart. Nevertheless, I lingered on the hope of a chance I had lost over two years ago, but I was all for shit!

Just shit!

I hit another corner and swerved as sheer ice graced burning rubber. I regained control and yet had control of nothing. It was my lot in life. Whatever I touched would eventually be destroyed. No cure or prayers could divert the curse that was my life. I tried to play the hand of a good man but failed. What to do now? I wasn't sure. I simply drove. It was the only logic.

South of the Canadian border I came to a small town and docked for the night. I left Scott's car to the fate of the gods, as I found shelter in a nearby bar, and solace in a shot of Scotch. As the new stranger in town, I felt people's eyes poke into my shoulder blades, but they were mindful to keep there distance. In the grim shadows draping the tavern, the oppressive madness of what transpired ate at me. But what took a greater hold was the loss of Marie.

I wondered how she was and if in fact those bastards had finally driven their own sense and conclusions about me into her head. Had she turned? Did she give up on us? Fucking Bobby! This was all his doing. The picture of the two of them cozy and content burned in my brain. I slammed my fist on the bar top gaining the attention of everyone in the room. I glared at those I locked eyes with, hoping, waiting, itching for a fight. Anything to distract me from my own inner demons. When no challengers advanced, I lowered my head into my hands, clawing through the tangled locks.

"Marie," I chocked out in a strangled cry, fighting the tears burning in my eyes. "I—I—"

"I what my boy, love you?"

I jerked in the stool and gradually sat back straight. That voice—that accent—how could I forget it? It was forever tattooed in my mind. Subtly, I shifted and saw a haggard old man sitting beside me. His unruly grey hair reached his shoulders and an unkempt beard shrouded shrunken lines and deep wrinkles.

Magneto?

No, it couldn't be. I had known the man for a greater part of a year and he would never degrade himself to look like a worn out old cocker from off the streets. Appearance was the forerunner to his disposition as was the desire to situate mutants to a dominate status over humanity. And yet here he was dressed in a tattered plaid jacket and moldy brown pants and a crooked cane rested against the bar.

I looked at it then to his sullen face. He sat quietly drinking a glass of water, never once laying on an eye on me. "So, what's with the cane?"

"Just keeping up appearances, my boy," he replied.


	9. Chapter IX

**Author's Note:** Another chapter complete. Help! Help! I'm slowly running out of ideas, I could use some help! Send me anything! Give me any suggestion I could incorporate to make this story great. Love to all my reviewers and to those cramming the author alert. LOL

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Chapter IX

_Pyro's POV:_

It was almost criminal to watch the fretted motions of Magneto's hand as his feeble digits clenched the grime coated glass. It trembled just as he lifted the brim to his lips. I caught the downward pull of his mouth seconds before the glass touched his lips. He drank with a less hearty spirit and devotion than his potent words, which had cut through me quite sharply.

I shuffled, rubbed my face with the palms of my hands, then herald the barkeeper to usher in another shot of Scotch. He sized me for a momentary second before pouring my request. I paid the fee and reached for the wholesome nectar that would burn away my sorrows. When I felt his eyes boring into my skull, I marked him with vehement hatred, and he backed away slowly to mop the bar top clean.

"You haven't lost your touch." Erik remarked, raising the glass again to his lips.

Immobile, my eyes glossed over, and my mouth twisted. "You have as I can see."

"Are you quite sure of that?"

"All I know is that we lost." It was then I felt him looking at me and turned to set eyes on his ragged façade. Broken, beaten, and utterly human. Anger surfaced in lure of Logan's overconfident vocation of a de-powered Magneto swilled in my ears. It had been a greater loss than I had imagined. For all the old man's boisterous words of domination, he sat there in the stool a decrepit old fool. "And you deserted us."

"I merely took a brief sabbatical," he engaged, lightly taking up his cane and swiveling in his seat. "Besides our little upset on Alcatraz—was—a minor setback."

"Sure," I said bitterly.

"Pyro, my boy," Magneto said.

"Don't call me that!"

Silence gripped the entire bar as hot eyes bombarded me from different corners. Magneto turned his head slightly, witnessing the dark faces contorting into sneers. "Perhaps, we should have our little talk elsewhere."

"No," I shoved to my feet. "I don't have anything to say." I tossed a twenty onto the counter and stormed out the tavern before things escalated. My desire to fight had long dissipated. I shrugged past two burly men who seemed bent on a fight than their sad game of pool.

"Watch it," one of them huffed.

I flipped him the bird and ducked out into the night. It had quickly fallen. Snow blanketed the small town and an unpleasant chill rushed in from the arctic. I huddled inside the thin layer of clothes on my back and headed towards Scott's car. It was gone.

Fuck!

What was I to do now?

"Searching for the X-Men you rode in on?" His inquiry was firm as if he were demanding where my allegiance stood.

I spun around hot tempered. "How'd you know?"

"I saw that horrid symbol etched on the license plate seconds before I entered the tavern." Magneto came towards me, limping on his came, causing my lips to tighten with disgust. "My boy, you haven't abandoned your sense in judgment have you?"

"What's it to you?" I growled.

"I always thought you were a smart Pyro," he said mockingly, "not a fool."

"I seem to be disappointing everyone today," I grounded out.

"Chase you away did they," he snorted, shaking his head. "It was bound to happen. The X-Men aren't known for tolerating those who don't hold ideals close to their own."

"Spare me the lectures old man," I said, feeling the fire rise in my eyes. "What do you want?"

He came closer, his height towering, but I was hardly intimidated. "The question is what do you want?"

I lowered my head and let out a haggard puff of air, my chest tightening in painful exhursion. I wasn't sure anymore, but one thing was certain, those assholes would never let me near Marie again. I felt a hand on my shoulder and lifted my face to meet tired old eyes. "Come," Erik said. "The temperature is dropping."

Mistrustful, I stared hard after a once formidable mutant. Magneto limped and trudged through the heavy snow and I tailed him to a little shop on the wayside. He reached into his coat and pulled out a set of keys. I watched as it nearly took him five minutes to find the right key and another three to stick it into the latch. Vexed, I snatched the keys out of his hand, stuck it cleanly into the lock, and turned the knob with ease.

He gave me with a bemuse grin and hustled inside the warm entrance. I shivered, rocked by the heat that saturated the room. Magneto turned on the lights and took off his coat. I surveyed the shop and was completely dumbfounded.

"A bookstore," I said, an edge of ridicule on my lips. "Well done. No one would ever think to look for you here."

"It wasn't easy," he replied jostling towards the stairs. He took each step with difficulty. I remained on the first floor, watching, but it wasn't till he reached the top did he casually toss his cane aside and walk straight and strong. My jaw hit the floor. I watched the cane dance in the air, circle, and rest itself beside the coat rack.

He was faking!

Rage rocketed me up the stairs and I exploded into his bedroom. I found him sitting in a large high back leather chair, a glass of Brandy already in hand. "Close the door," he said with a cunning smile, "if you're planning to stay."

"Why the fuckin' gimmick," I hollered.

He registered the question in a seeming quiet that rankled my already riled nerves. I watched for several minutes as he swirled and sipped his Brandy. "It's easier, or should I say safer for me to pretend that I'm a useless, crippled, old man," he began. "After all, they're still looking for me I believe."

"Not really," I gripped.

"Not by the X-Men," he scoffed. "I'm sure Wolverine is still wallowing in his triumph against me." Erik's silver blue eyes turned murderous.

"He spared me the gory details," I said.

"A pity he doesn't realize the effects of this so-called Cure isn't permanent." He spoke the word _cure_ as if it were a bad taste in his mouth and downed his Brandy in a huge gulp. "I should be thanking Mr. Worthington after all. I'm sure you've experienced some rather interesting new developments."

I clenched my fist, the heat from the fire place tantalizing my fingers. "I don't know what you mean."

"Come now, I'm sure there has been some differences." Magneto chuckled. With the slightest flick of his wrist, a tray levitated across the room and he set his glass on it. He folded his hands in his lap, while the tray returned to the table on the opposite side of the room. I catalogued one thing in my mind. He'd barely lifted a finger to summon the serving platter. "Have a seat my boy," a chair slid across the floor, connecting my legs, causing to fall into a sit. Eric stared me with penetrating eyes. "You look as if you were about to collapse."

"What's happened to us," I whispered.

"Ah," he smiled. "So there has been a change. I was wondering why you no longer wore the Zippo I gave you." He arched a brow in great interest. "Do you no longer require it?"

I felt my head turning side to side in response to his inquiries. I hadn't understood why I had revealed to him that much ? I guess a part of me still trusted him. Still owed him a great deal for all he'd installed in me. Truthfully, I'd learned a great deal under his instruction. A lot more than the sugar coated lessons the X-Men tried to pump into me. Magneto taught me the truth. I was a mutant. Plain and simple, I was different and would always be an outcast. No matter what a certain Secretary tried to achieve, or a defensive stand to protect humanity.

Mankind always feared what they couldn't understand. Churches and religious groups condemned us. Conservatives or liberals abhorred us. And fanatics, well, let's keep those lunatics out of the picture. "This will change everything, won't it?"

"Once humanity realizes their little ploy makes us stronger," Eric rested his head against the chair back. "What transpired on Alcatraz was nothing compared to the events which will soon unfold. The true war, my boy, is about to begin." He looked at me then. "Are you ready?"

I lowered my eyes, my hands braced on my knees, unsure of how to reply. Eighteen months ago I was damn near ready to do anything and all things to change this world to give mutants the dominate hand. I killed, stole, destroyed. I warred and raged. I willing to go all the way for Magneto's ideal. Not until recently.

Not until Marie.

She floated into my thoughts and my fingers dug into my jeans. I counted the seriousness of what Eric revealed. War! It was coming. The Brotherhood. The X-Men. Once again the lines would be drawn. It was then I was suddenly hit with a troubling thought. Which side would I choose? For home was where Marie was.

If she still wanted me?

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_Rogue's POV: _

Mystique flashed her pearly white teeth, before raising a slender blue finger to her lips. "Hush," she turned her head quickly to the mahogany door then faced me. "You don't want the infamous blood hound to come charging in do you?"

"All this time, you've been Ebony." I could hardly contain my outrage and disbelief. Heat poured into my cheeks as I guarded the clever minx seated on my bed. "Why?"

"I was merely looking out for you," she said, relaxing into a more comfortable position, once she sensed her existence within the mansion had not been detected.

I blinked. "Looking out for me? Or monitoring my every move and reporting them to that fuckin' nutcase?"

Her face contorted into a mask of hate. "I no longer extend my services to that heartless, impotent, old fool. Besides, I spent most of my time healing or should I say reshaping." She stretched, arching her back like a cat.

My eyes darkened.

All this time, she'd been Ebony, the helpless feline I'd rescued and nurtured. Exchanged my deepest thoughts and feelings when I had no one else to talk to. I told her things, _secret_ things. If the bitch opened her mouth I'll show her what's what!

Mystique regarded the hostility etched on my face. "Don't worry," she said in complete mockery, her grin enlarging. "You're secrets are safe with me."

"They better be," I shouted.

"Hush," she cried and skipped to her feet when she heard someone walk by my door.

"Why are you here?" I demanded.

"I just wanted to see how my girl was doing," she smiled easing onto the bed again.

I folded my arms tightly across my chest. "Don't act as if we're best friends because we're not. Remember, you had a hand in trying to do me in for that metal moving bastard."

The blue skinned mutant lowered her head. "I'm sorry about that."

I recoiled in surprise. Mystique! Sorry? Never. Anything that done was for the good of mutants, even if it meant sacrificing one of their own. "Why should you feel sorry? You practically stood aside and allowed Magneto to feed me his powers. I nearly died you cold hearted bitch!"

"Do you think I'd allow that to happen if I'd known the truth like I know now," she interjected, surging to her feet.

I froze, squinting my eyes. "What truth?"

"You might find this crazy."

I glared at her. "Try me."

"Rogue —you—you're my daughter."

Alarmed rocked me to the core in such a manner that I found myself laughing hysterically. "Have you lost it completely? You! My mother? You're right you are crazy?"

Mystique's yellow eyes flashed in anger. "Do you think I would lie about something like this?"

"I had a mother Mystique and she sure as hell wasn't you."

She shook her head. "They never said you were adopted did they?"

I stiffened. "I knew that! Which is why it was so much simpler for them to—?"

"Throw you out," Mystique finished.

"Yeah," I said, discomforted by the memory. "That still doesn't prove you're my mother."

"No," she said simply. "It doesn't. You don't have to believe me." She snuck her hand into the white leather cat suit she wore, which was surprising since she loved to sport her naked form proudly. "A gift." She tossed me a disk. "A little number Magneto had kept from me for years. How else did he know about you and how to find you and Wolverine on that lonely highway? He's been tracking mutants with great prospects to aid in his vision just like Xavier. And like a viper he kept this from me."

The disk slipped through my fingers, numb to the realization that Mystique _might_ be telling me the truth. Tears pooled in my eyes and I detested them. "Why are you doing this? Why? Tell me?" I screamed.

She shrugged. "I thought you should know."

"Bull shit!" I hissed. "You just want to alleviate your fuckin' conscious!"

"Perhaps? Or maybe it's nice to know I have family in this world."

"I'm not you're family—never—" I clutched the disk. "I can't—it doesn't make sense—we—"

"Don't look alike." Her lips curled into a smirk. "Imagine my surprise, particularly when I already have a son out there who sports my complexion."

I gasped. "A son?"

"We've met him before."

"Who?"

She shifted her footing and crossed her arms. "So now you're interested."

"Hell no!" I hissed.

Mystique sauntered to the window and opened it. The winter cold rushed inside and evaporated the heat keeping the bedroom nice and toasty. "Whether you look at that disk is entirely up to you? Throw it away if it pleases you. But if you do take a glimpse and wanna talk, I'm staying at the Hotel Marquis." She exited with a sweeping back flip. I ran to window in time to see her morph into a white cat and scamper across snow backed yard. She disappeared in woods.

It was too much to take. Shaking, I slipped to floor in a panic. Rivers of tears streamed endlessly down my face. What was going on with my life? First my boyfriend runs out on me, next a baby, now a mother who's my enemy.

No!

Mystique wasn't my mother. No way near! It was impossible. She was lying, playing with my head. I rose, dumping the disk into the waste basket. I swept my hands across my face when I heard a knock on my door.

"Jubilee," I said, giving her a cheery smile, when the door opened a funky girl walked in.

A tray of food laden in her arms. "Missed you at lunch."

"I wasn't hungry."

Jubilee set the tray on the table and glanced my way. "You're carrying another life Rogue. You're supposed to always be hungry."

"Oh yes," I scoffed. "And ten minutes later my appetizing meal gets flushed down the toilette. No, a box of saltines is the only thing that satiates me right now."

"That bad huh?"

"You have no idea." I muttered.

"Well," Jubilee chuckled. "I guess carrying a little Pyro is more nightmarish than I thought."

"Jubilee," I groaned.

"Sorry, sorry," she teased. "It couldn't be help."

"Right," I snorted.

"Hey, what's this?" Jubilee plucked the disc out of the waste basket.

"Nothing," I said rather quickly and got up to take it from her. I opened a draw and tossed it inside. She eyed me curiously but shrugged.

"Listen," she said dropping onto the bed. "A couple of us are running out into the city. You know, catch a movie then probably pizza. You wanna come?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm not really up to it."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Come on Rogue. You can't lock yourself up and wait for that ass—"

"Don't!" I screamed. "I had to suffer that shit where Logan was concerned. I don't want to here it from you!" It was obvious by the look of fear rising in her eyes she'd never heard me scream. I turned my back on her. "Just go."

"Fine," she said bitingly.

I jerked at the sudden slamming of the door. I knew she was upset and would run and tell everyone to stay clear of me. It didn't really matter for things as of right now had grown complicated. I removed the disc and stared at it for a couple of minutes. Mystique's words returned to haunt me.

_Rogue you're my daughter._

"It can't be true," I whispered. And why tell me now? Why bother when she knew we were enemies? Why the sudden unveiling of secrets? I sat down in front of my laptop and opened the CD ROM drive. Hesitant, I slipped the disc on the panel and drive automatically closed.

I waited.

My heart thundered in my chest. A silver logo shaped like an M appeared on the flat screen. I clicked on it and the logo dissipated to reveal web of information. I was astonished by the accessibility to what were clearly secret files. I concluded Mystique created this copy with intention that I see what lay within.

-----------------------------------

_Mystique's POV:_

The shower had done exactly what I hoped, yet the heavy stain of all my past transgressions still lingered like a second skin. Amazing how a dose of the Cure could change one's entire perspective, especially where a certain Master of Magnetism was concerned. It was so delicious to take revenge and inform the government on his whereabouts, even though he would probably slip through their grasps. But how I longed to see him get a taste of the sacrifice I'd made for him. Wished I could have witnessed his fall then he would know how I felt.

_I'm sorry my dear...you're not one of us anymore._

Anger burned.

I stalked out of the bathroom and allowed the air to dry the wet moisture off my skin. Not the human shell I endured for the last six months, but the blue layer of flesh I was born into. It was me and would always be me. No amount of medical science or manipulation could undermine what nature constructed out of a sperm and egg. This was who I was meant to be and it was wonderful to be restored.

I cast a glance at myself in the mirror.

Yes, the same wicked eyes, and the same darkened scales caressing midnight blue skin. I stroked my fingers through my hair. It was black. I sort of took a shine to the color and decided not to dye my hair back to the original flame red tone.

With my dinner waiting on a cart, I pushed it closer to the T.V. and dropped into the sofa. I flipped through endless channels before stopping on the Soap Network and was instantly reminded of Rogue. If we were in San Francisco I would be on her lap as she stroked my fur. She would talk to me and I would listen. I was a cat. If I had talked back it would have scared the shit out of her? And naturally she would throw me out or off the balcony.

I remained quiet, content with listening, silently watching out for a girl who was my child. She just as shocked as I was when I found out. I knew I had a baby. A lovely parting gift from a Colonel I had seduced in exchange for his security badge. Abortion was never an option. Hell, it was bad enough I was a target because I was a mutant. Why the hell take my frustrations out on an innocent child? If it was lucky, the kid would turn out normal. Fat chance of that now.

I couldn't eat.

My mind kept going over my conversation with Rogue and the astonishing realization that Wolverine had not sniffed me out. The last time he caught wind of my scent I ended in the hospital. Maybe this Cure was worth the six months of humanity. I never felt more flexible and strong. My body could actually mold into animals which was something I was never able to do. Yet there were limitations. It wasn't like I could shrink down to the size of an ant or transform into a butterfly. It had to be a mammal with the same distinctive characteristics as my mutation. Night vision, flexibility, and agility, which explains why I could form into a cat, but there was some discomfort. My muscles ached for days afterward. I practically have a bag loaded with Icy Hot.

I was astounded to hear a knock on the door and rose, morphing into my human form. I grabbed a bathrobe and padded to the door. I peered through the peephole and let out a gasp. I opened the door and Rogue charged inside.

"Well," I said closing the door, morphing back to my original self. "Hello to you too."

"Start talking," she cried, her eyes flaming. "And it better be the truth."


	10. Chapter X

**Author's Note:** I dedicated this chapter to all the reviewers who demand I get my act together and starting driving out chapters at a faster rate. LOL! Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter X

_Rogue's POV:_

"Are you sure you don't want something to drink?" Mystique inquired, lithely prancing towards the mini bar to pull out a small bottle of vodka to add to her orange juice.

"Stop beating around the bush," I replied in a cold, clipped, tone. "I want answers."

"Such a temper," she closed the tiny fridge and tossed me a grin. "You certainly didn't get it from me."

"Thank heavens for small favors." I marked her fluid steps to the couch, becoming increasingly irate by her laid-back manner and casual smiles that twisted my insides. I quite literally wanted to slap her. I was reeling over the image of the scanned document of my birth certificate. Raven Darkholme was emboldened in thick, black letters, identifying her as the mother. The father was unknown. Other records, such as my adoption papers, medical files appeared on the screen. She was right about Magneto; he'd kept me under surveillance, the both of us actually. He have must confirmed his suspicions when he usurp a sample of our DNA. That was what upset me the most. Mystique wasn't lying; she was, indeed, my mother. I tried to reject what was so plainly clear. The documents, everything, could've been fakes. It had to be, but doubt tortured. "I don't have all day Mystique. I want answers."

She glanced in my direction and flashed a devious smile. "We all want something don't we?"

"Will you cut the shit?" I cried. "You violate my personal life then you drop this bomb by saying you're my mother! What the hell do you want?"

Her shoulders rose and fell as she shrugged. "I don't know, perhaps a hug, tears of joy maybe?"

"You're impossible!"

Mystique lifted the glass holding the alluring mixture of orange juice and vodka and sipped. "Erik always thought so."

"Tell me about my real father." I demanded.

Her yellow eyes glowed menacingly. "You're in no position to order me around, besides, he was no one special. Just a military Colonel Erik had me seduced in order to gain security clearance on his base." She traced over me quickly and scoffed. "You're just a by product of a one night stand. I'm not even sure if he even was your father."

"You bitch!" I spat, seething with rage, and spun around to charge out of room. I could hear her cackling laughter even as I stormed out of the hotel and into the crisp afternoon. My breath fogged the air due to the agonized release of oxygen that squeezed out my lungs. I felt heat rise in my face; undesired tears welled beneath my lashes, and slipped in frozen rivers down my face. I tugged my jacket open, desperate for the frosty winds to quench the pathetic whimpers threatening to transform me into a blubbering fool.

I wouldn't cry. Not for her. So I was a bastard. Dozens more were born every day, nevertheless, it shattered the last scenic link to a house down in Mississippi, and an adoring family I once called my own. In the maddening frustration, I became unglued. A creeping pain, trivial at first, gradually increased and honed in the right side of my head. I touched my temple with the tips of my fingers moaning. I cloudy haze enveloped my vision. The pain swelled and I cried out in anguish. I couldn't see where I was going. Driven by the throbbing misery in my brain, my foot stepped off the curb. Screams came before the impact of metal and I was thrown into the air.

I revived to the circle of faces hovering above me. I started to move but was informed to remain still. I heard the scrap of metal and the crunch of glass. I shifted slightly to see I had crashed into a phone booth. It stood limply and greatly dismembered.

"Is she alright?"

"I don't know." I looked in the direction of the voice and saw a man of middle age working on me. He must have been a doctor from the way his hands expertly moved. "Are you in any pain miss?"

I bit my lips and shook my head side to side. There was no pain, no immeasurable agony someone would endure after being hit by a bus. Through the legs of people crowding, I saw steam rise from the engine of the public transportation vehicle. I saw a massive dent and shattered windows. People were being escorted out.

"Baby," someone said. "The Lord was watchin' over you today."

My eyes became the size of golf balls. _Baby! _I surged to my feet, astounding the crowd, but they were the least of my worries. I dropped my eyes to my stomach and clamped a hand on the flat mound. My baby? Jesus, I was hit by a bus! Was it okay? Frantic, I shoved through the crowd desperate to get home.

"Where you goin' sweetie?"

I caught my breath horrified by the sight of a tall young man in my path. His tattered clothes hung loosely on his skinny frame. A tattoo was etched on his right arm. His blond hair fell about his shoulders in wild tresses. His friends were equally attired and bore the same painted image on their skin. The symbols were indistinct except for a bright red letter F jumping out at me.

"None of your business," I replied and tried to push onward.

"We saw what happened," he scoffed. "No one walks away from an accident without a mark to show for it."

"I guess I'm just lucky," I stepped to right, he measured my movements.

"Lucky my ass," he sneered, his eyes blackening. He took a step to me. "We know what you are."

I wasn't so much as intimated but aggravated. It never changes does it. I clenched my fist, sniffing out two of his flunkies who'd fallen behind me. Despite the phenomenal alterations I was undergoing, Logan's acute senses were permanently lodged in my mind for a strange reason, and his fight mode instantly clicked on in my head.

The overbearing leader of this diminutive band regarded me with disgust. I registered him with the same intensity. "We have a Cure for freaks like you."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," I scoffed. "But that little miracle from Worthington—" I was grabbed from behind. It was a momentary shock before Logan's reflexive abilities surged me into action. I slammed my head back into his face and dropped low to kick the legs out the second to my life.

"Mutant whore!"

There was a flash of metal. I dodged a blade, swirling round to intercept an arm, knocking the weapon cleanly out of the hand of my assailant. I then heaved hard and sent into crashing into a boutique store. People came scrambling out. I stood stunned by what had just occurred before scraping through a host of bodies. I ran. It was a long time before I stopped.

------------------------------------------

_Bobby's POV:_

Rogue had returned.

She was gone so long I didn't think she would come home. But she had. I spotted her walking with heavy steps up the pathway towards the mansion. She looked pretty upset, whether with me, I wasn't sure. Who was kidding? She hated me. She despised everything there was about me. She regarded me as a leper and had no contact. She didn't even throw a 'hello' my direction when she passed by me.

The day she came back to the mansion, I leaned on the hope our love would rekindle. Only it had been snuffed out by a flame thrower. Anger seized me, an unparallel rage boiled in my veins. I was pleased John had reenacted his famous retreat and left the mansion. Yet I was devastated by the news he'd left a friendly parting gift. It chocked me to death to see her, knowing she was carrying his baby. A baby that should have _been_ mine!

I observed as she disappeared inside the mansion and exited my room. I walked to the landing and stood close to the stairs listening. She hollered for Ms. Munroe who came rushing to her. I listened. Accident, mutant-haters, was all I was able to gain from their conversations. Footsteps bounded. I heard the hiss of a hatch and knew they were going to the lower levels. An accident? What happened? Was she alright? What about the baby? I tried to fight a gruesome relief that swirled darkly in my brain. A sick hope that a terrible mishap had befallen the baby.

"Bobby?" Startled, I threw my eyes behind my shoulders to see Kitty standing just feet from me. I tried to curb my annoyance. She'd been hanging on my heels lately, never giving me a moment's peace.

"Yeah Kitty?"

She tucked a wayward chestnut strand behind her ears. "Um," she began nervously. "A couple of us rented Transformers and ordered some pizza." She shifted her footing. "Would you—uh—care to join us?"

"Nah." I let out a hard exhale and saw the expectation melt off her face. "Uh, maybe later, something happened to Rogue. I better see if she's okay."

She looked crushed, but she simply lowered her eyes and nodded. "Okay, we'll save you a slice." She hurried away and I stood there basking in the guilt consuming me. I knew she liked me. _A lot_. But I just couldn't bring myself to return the feelings she felt most desperately. I still was in love with Rogue. I couldn't shake her. I would be wrong to toy with Kitty's emotions when I knew I didn't hold the same cards she did. Sighing, I trudged down the stairs, determined to find out what was going on with Rogue.

"Where the hell you think you're goin'?" Logan came swaggering towards me, a beer bottle hidden discreetly in his hand.

"Rogue was in an accident."

The large, hairy mutant literally dropped the bottle. Dark fluid spilled. "Why the fuck didn't you say so?" He nearly kicked me out of the way and stepped onto the elevator, I followed and pretty soon we were both bursting into the infirmary.

"Oh hell, get out!" Marie screamed, shielding herself with her hands. Apparently, she wasn't in the mood for visitors. She was lying on the metal table, her pants down and sweater pulled just below her breast. The sight of her soft creamy skin was quite alarming. Ms. Munroe was doing her best to work the ultrasound machine. She whirled around and gave us a disgruntled look. She took a blanket and flung it across Rogue.

"Heard you were in an accident," Logan said walking to her.

"She's fine," Ororo said. "Luckily her new powers saved her."

"My baby," Rogue said, her face red as well as her eyes. Obviously, she'd been crying.

Ororo's eyes grew sad. "I don't know Rogue," she said. "I'm not a doctor, I don't know what I'm seeing."

"Was there a heart beat?"

"I don't know and don't know which button to push for us to listen. I'll telephone Hank. I know he'll be here in the morning."

"No," Rogue cried, scurrying to sit. "I need to know if my baby's alright now!"

Logan put his hand on her shoulder. "Easy Rogue. It's gonna be okay."

"It's not going to be okay! Nobody wanted me to have this baby, so don't act like you all care!" She heaved off the table, dragging her pants up as she ran for the door.

"Where are you going?" Logan said after a few minutes.

I paused. "I'm going to check to see if she's okay."

"Leave her alone for now Bobby," Ororo said quietly.

"Yeah," Logan barked. "Lately, you're the one person she's wants to look at." He took a step to me. "I wonder why that is anyway."

I drew back, timidly; anxious by his perusal to the break in Rogue's and mine's friendship and bruised by his harsh words. I suppressed the anger that roused and stormed out of the infirmary to her room. He was right. She didn't even speak to the door when I knocked and asked to come in.

"Not now," Jubilee informed, standing in the slightly opened door. "She has enough problems on her plate." She slammed the door in my face. I clawed my hand through my hair and sighed heavily. There was nothing else to do but take Kitty up on that slice of pizza.

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_Hank's POV:_

Three a.m.

I understood becoming a secretary to the President came with liberties including a private jet. Yet I never imagined I would be heading to Westchester, New York at such an ungodly hour. However, Ororo's commuincae did sound most desperate, particularly where Rogue was concerned. Hearing her voice was quite startling, triggering old wounds, I for the past few weeks tried to blot. I hadn't completely recovered from the realization that we would be nothing more than companions. It was rather difficult to see she had moved on with the likes of that Wolverine character.

All the same, I had to put aside my feelings, and act in the best interest of young girl bawling her eyes out at this very hour. Ororo informed me about the calamity that had befallen Rogue and the girl was most pressing. She refused to be comforted until she knew her baby was alive and in good health. Driven to a private air field, I found myself sprawled on several seats inside the jet, trying my ever best to reclaim some sleep till we landed in New York. Shaken awake, I howled and stretched and ducked into a black limo. I arrived at the mansion just as the sun rose and was greeted by none other that Ororo.

"Thank you for coming at such short notice Hank," she said quite relieved.

"Not a problem," I replied, yawning, fixing my glasses. "She was in an accident you say."

"Her powers must have triggered. She claimed to have a head and unknowingly walked off the curb and into the path of an oncoming bus."

"Good lord," I cried.

Ororo nodded.

The pair reached the lower levels and walked into the infirmary. Jubilee and Kitty were trying to appeal to Rogue with little success "Thank God," Rogue sniffed, turning her face to the parting silver doors to see a blue furred mutant enter. "Dr. McCoy, please tell me everything is alright with my baby."

I shrugged out my coat and exchanged it for a white lab one. "Of course Rogue," I coaxed. "Just relax and lie back."

She lay down, exhaling, wiping tears from her eyes. I shifted the sheet and night gown, keeping her modestly covered. I switched on the machine, poured gel on her stomach. She flinched at the cold feel. I stared earnestly at the screen, manipulating the transducer across her stomach. Rogue kept her eyes pinned on images projected on the screen.

"Anything," she pleaded, clutching Kitty's hand.

"Yes," I pushed a button and a humming sound filled the room. I smiled down at the young girl, who was completely awed by the sound. "Can you hear it?"

"Is—is that—" Rogue gasped.

"Yes, it's the baby's heart beat."

"Oh," she cried in joy. "It's okay then right?"

"Absolutely," I smiled, thrilled to see the tension and fear that had eclipsed her face fade.

"Thank you." She sighed, easing to sleep.

"She didn't sleep all night," Kitty explained, patting her hand.

"Quite understandable," I said, cleaning her and placing the items away. "But she must take it easy for the sake of the baby." I turned to Ororo. "Any word from the father?" She shook her head. "These young men nowadays are starting to vex me." I took off the jacket and picked up my own coat. "I need to speak with you."

"What's wrong?" Ororo asked, once they were out of ear shot.

"It's the baby."

She grew solemn. "Something is wrong isn't there, and you didn't want to al—"

"No," he said, easing her woes. "The baby is fine, but, it's much larger than a normal fetus around two to three months."

"What?"

"Ororo, I believe Rogue's changes are causing the baby to grow at an alarming rate."

"She did look larger this morning," she cried. "I thought it was just her night gown."

"She might be expected to give birth within five to six months."

"Goodness," Ororo gasped.

"I'm not sure how this will affect Rogue," Hank said grimly, "I'll ask for a leave of absence and move in here so that I can properly monitor her."

"We would be glad to have you." Ororo touched his arm then moved it slowly. She hadn't forgotten what he said to her. He was in love with her, which only seemed to complicate things. She raised her eyes to meet his stern countenance. "That's only part of the reason why you're here is it?"

"Yes," I said. "It's about the Cure."

------------------------------------------

_Pyro's POV:_

Newspapers. Internet. Television.

Wherever I looked it was the same boisterous avocation. The cure was _not_ permanent. Most mutants rejoiced. Others were dumbfounded and lost in hopelessness. Protestors, once again, took to the streets; fueled by a new radical movement calling themselves FOH or Friends of Humanity. At first, the undisclosed organization was too obscure for anyone to notice, but they're abhorrent dislike for mutants swiftly attracted members. Like a fuse, they exploded; savagely launching assaults on unsuspecting mutant communities, becoming increasingly violent in their demonstrations, and torching businesses that welcomed mutants.

Mayhem and chaos spilled into the streets. Turf wars erupted in neighborhoods. Innocent by standers, naturally, were caught in the crossfire. It was all happening just as Magneto predicted. The war had begun. Curiosity, led me to a secret website encrypted to shield outsiders from its true contents. Those who'd once joined forces with the Brotherhood were calling. Some were terrified and were seeking aid. Some demanded to know whether the rumor Magneto was dead was true. I wanted to respond but logged out.

Admitting he was alive would certify me in the role as his henchman, and I wasn't ready to reclaim that position. I pushed out of the chair and walked about the tiny room above the bookstore. I was strange being here. It was so unlike Magneto's fortress not far off the coast of Maine. This was the home of a simple man with simple. And yet, there was nothing simple about Magneto. I took note of a pile blankets across from the fire place. It was there I slept. I grimaced, founding the position similar to that of dog. I yanked the bed coverings off the wood floor and tossed them to the side. If I had played my hand right, I could be curled up in bed with Marie. Instead, I was here, a degenerate loser camping on the floor of a miserly old fugitive.

Glorious.

I went downstairs looking for something to eat and opened the fridge. Kosher. I made a face. For a man who seemed to break every Commandment certainly kept with traditions. I grabbed a bottled of water. Magneto was fussy about people touching his food. It didn't sway me. I wasn't too keen on Kosher. Leaning against the sink, I popped the top and downed half the bottle. My eyes soon glued to an out dated telephone. I thought about Marie. I wondered how she was holding up. It had been weeks since I ditched the mansion. Had she given up on us? I went to the stand in the corner and picked up the phone. Unconsciously, I dialed a number, and gripped the receiver. My palms started to sweat; the droning sound resembled a death toll.

"Xavier's School for Gifted Children. May I help you?"

Marie!

I didn't think she'd answer the phone. I was expecting Ms. Munroe or Logan or some other reject. My heart hammered my ribs to death.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

I wanted to respond but my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth. I caught my breath when she finally spoke my name.

"John?" she whispered. "Is that you?"

I hung up. Too ashamed to speak and too guilt-ridden. What was I to say after such and extensive amount of time? What would she say? I mopped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and started to walk towards the stairs.

The phone rang.

I swung around alarmed. She must have retraced the number. I stood rock solid, listening as the blaring noise filled the bookstore. I started panicking. Magneto would return soon from wherever he'd ventured and demand to know why the phone was ringing.

It was a problem why?

His phone never rang. No one knew he was here and that's the way he wanted it. I plucked the receiver up quickly and held it to my face.

"John," Marie pleaded. "Please, talk to me. Tell me it's you?"

I couldn't bear the agony in her voice. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. "Yeah," I answered. "It's me." My mouth curled into a smile at the sigh of her relief.

"Where are you?"

"Not far," I lied. "I—I had to get out of there Marie. I—"

"I don't care about what happened. John, come home."

I raked my fingers through my hair. "It's better this way Marie. Nobody wants me there."

"That's not true." She said. "I want you."

I swallowed hard, fighting the feelings she alone managed to stir in me. "I—I can't. You deserve someone better than me."

"Don't say that," she cried. "You're everything to me. Please...come home."

"Why?"

"Because," she sniffed and I squeezed the phone tighter. "I love you."

I closed my eyes. She had skipped the loose tactics and went for the throat. "Marie—" I croaked.

"John," she interrupted. "There's something I want to tell you, but no over the phone. I want to do it face to face."

"If it's not a strong enough reason to drag me back to mansion, don't bother telling me."

Her silence troubled. It was as if she were deciding whether or not she was going to reveal what lay on her heart. "John."

"Yeah."

"I'm pregnant."


	11. Chapter XI

**Author's Note: **Okay! There are three reasons why this chapter took so long. 1) I'm a slow typist. I know I should get a system and practice. 2) I tend to be self conscious at times and believe what I jot down is garbage and scrap it. 3) The Flu! I was bed ridden for a long time and during that period I couldn't stand to look at the computer. Well it's up now for you all to enjoy. I'll try harder to get more chapters out faster. Thanks for the reviews.

Chapter XI

_Pyro's POV:_

_I'm pregnant._

It was seconds before those two little words crashed into me like a tsunami. I literally felt my heart stop and a cold sweat washed my skin. Tremors radiated across my flesh. Lost in a stream of unparallel thought, I consciously forgot the woman penitently waiting for my response.

"John, John!" Rogue shrieked impatiently, snapping me back into reality.

"Is it mine?"

"Ah—!"

Her broken cry waved a red flag alerting to the classic mistake every male makes when he discovers he's going to be a father. "No! Wait! I didn't mean—"

"Bastard!"

"Marie—"

A strong click trailed by a loud dial tone buzzed in my ear. Our conversation had come to an abrupt end. At first, I thought about calling her back, but decided against it. Marie would be in a pool of tears by now and long away from the phone. She wouldn't want to speak to me anyway. An automated operator spoke cordially. I lowered the phone onto the base and slumped into a nearby chair stunned.

Pregnant?

How was it possible? We were always so careful. _Careful_. If those bouts of passion that transpired on and off fell into the definition. It was damn near impossible to put on a condom when you had a girlfriend that conjured sweet magic with her lips. I don't believe there's a guy in history who had that kind of will power. The smirk on lips quickly faded as I thought back on my insensitive words.

I asked her if the baby was mine.

I grimaced.

How fuckin' _stupid_ could I be? Of course the baby was mine! I know Marie and she would never give another guy the kind of love she gave me. I knew without a shadow of a doubt her loyalty was true. Not that I was truly deserving of it right at the moment. But a baby? Raising a child, another life, hell I'm still a kid myself. I'm only twenty-one. I can't be responsible for another human being. But it wasn't going to be human. Our child was going to be a mutant. Researchers discovered males were the ones that passed on the mutant gene and with Marie.

Shit!

How could I bring a child into _this_ world? How could I let it face the torment I endured? How could I be so cruel? I rose and started pacing the tiny store. I sought an outlet. I found none. An abortion wasn't my call and never would be. Marie was pro-life and truthfully she did appear to sound excited about the whole affair. I crushed her. I know I did.

Fuck!

I knew I ruined everything. It's what I'm good for. I'm not surprised if she never wanted to see again. Something jerked in me. No! I couldn't let it go that way. I'm a lot of things but there's no damn way I'm leaving my baby out there without a father. I knew what that was like. I knew only too well. I raced upstairs and tugged on my boots. I took an out-dated coat out of Magneto's closet and rummaged the cash register for some pocket change. I had enough for the bus ride back to New York and a bite to eat. I headed out. I didn't wait for the old man nor did I leave a note.

It was late in the afternoon, the next day, when I arrived at the mansion. Kids of various ages were running amok about the great estate. It was easy to blend in, easy to steal into the mansion, but not so easy to find Marie. I snuck up the stairs to our bedroom; she wasn't there. I located her in the library, scanning the shelves for something amusing to read. My heart skipped the second I laid eyes on her. But I was soon astounded by her size. She told me she was pregnant, but the belly on her suggested otherwise.

"Holy Christ!"

She twirled in alarm and dropped the book in her possession. "John!"

She wasn't so much as angry but alarmed to see me. I could tell by her flushed cheeks and glittering brown eyes. I stepped inside the lavish interior my heart thudding with each step. Her eyes grew somber; she dipped her head slightly and placed a hand on her protruding belly.

"Why are you here?"

Her question spoken so softly tore into me. I could hear her anguish on every syllable. "I came as soon as you told me about our baby."

Rogue flashed me a dark look. "Really," she huffed. "Now you want to talk about _our_ baby. As I recalled you don't believe it's _our_ baby."

I tightened my lips, shame coming over me. "I—I didn't mean—"

"I figured it was you," someone snarled. Immediately, I was swallowed in huge hands and engaging raging black eyes. "I smelled your stink a mile away bub. You got a lot of fuckin' nerve coming back here you sniveling piece of—"

"Let him down Logan I want a chance to speak with him before you do any bodily damage." Peering over the angry man's shoulder, I locked eyes with Ms. Munroe, and a burly man covered in blue fur. A new element to the mansion I wondered?

"Ah, you never let me have any fun," Logan growled as he thrust me a good feet. I collided with the bookshelf, topping several volumes of Encyclopedia to the floor.

"So much for the welcome wagon," I scoffed, straightening the faded blue shirt I wore. "I came here to talk to Marie."

"Right," Rogue said, bitingly. "More like you here for a paternity test?"

"Damnit! No!" I cried.

Logan looked between the two of us. "Wait," he said incredulously. "He doesn't believe he's the father." Marie nodded in response. He released a low guttural howl just as his claws protruded through his skin. "You son-of-a—"

Ororo stepped in front of her lover's advancing tirade. "John," she cried. "How could you think such a thing?"

"I didn't mean it," I shouted. "I wasn't thinking."

"No shit," Logan burned.

I cast him a menacing look and went to Marie. She refused to let me touch her. "I know the baby is mine." I tried to take her arm, she pulled away. "I got scared. I'm sorry," I said softly.

"Scared," she cried, throwing her hands into the air. "How do you think I feel? Doctor McCoy says I could have this baby any minute."

Alarmed, I swung around eyes wide to three adults standing in the doorway. "Is this true?"

"Yes. This so-called cure has done more than trigger Rogue's secondary mutation," Hank said. "It's affecting the cellular growth of the fetus. Its development is quite extraordinary."

"Oh, baby—I—" I wanted to take her in my arms but she gave me the brush off.

"I—I can't look at you right now." She charged out the library easing past Logan and Ororo.

"Marie!"

"Not so fast sparky." Logan blocked my path. "We're not done yet!"

"We need to talk John," said Ororo.

"It's a little late for the birds and bees lecture Ms. Munroe." I said snidely, my lips contorting. Dark shadows streaked across Logan's face. Ororo pressed the palm of her hand into his chest to slow his death march. His desires were evident in his black eyes.

--------------------------------------

For the next hour I was confined in the library with three bickering adults. Ms. Munroe took the reigns and in a thousand and one ways declared how appalled she was by my behavior. Rogue's pregnancy had obviously forced her hand, meaning I was allowed to remain in the mansion, yet under constant supervision. If I so much as light a match I would be out on the street. I yearned to tell them that what occurred between me and Bobby was mainly his fault. He hurt Marie. I was ensuring it would never happen again.

What was the use? I was the bad guy. In their eyes I was and always would be Pyro. Magneto's right hand. "Are we done?" I demanded.

"Yes," Ororo replied restless, scrapping her fingers into her grayish white hair. She looked tired as though she'd missed a couple nights sleep. Logan came up behind her and massages his hands deep into his neck muscles. I saw the way the big guy known to me as Doctor McCoy excuse himself and quickly depart. Ms. Munroe's eyes took a sad color to the brilliant pupils. A question brewed in my mind.

What the hell was going on around here?

I didn't care to find out I had far greater troubles. I started down that last mile to our bedroom. Staring at the wood door coldness overwhelmed me. The sensation was discomforting. I lifted my fist and knocked yet received no answer. I knocked again.

Nothing.

As I expected dead silence. Letting out a heavy sigh I turned the knob frightened to see it turned easily. Pushing the door open, I walked into the room. It was warm and inviting, rich with the scent of Marie's favorite perfume. I took a deep breath; allowed the sweet fragrance to fill my lungs. A shiver rippled through my skin. It was like coming home. Looking around everything was neat and in their respective places. I reached out to touch the down quilt, strumming my hand over the smooth fabric. It was going to be so good to sleep in a bed again. And my heart skipped at the thought of Marie stretched intimately by my side. That's if I would be sharing her bed ever again.

I heard the weak catch of breath and eased around to see her sitting on the padded ledge by the window. I let my eyes feast on her. She looked radiant beneath the soft winter morning pooling through the windows. The snow capped landscape gave her an angelic glow and the heightened the depth of her brown hair and platinum streaks. A hand was resting protectively on her swollen abdomen. I smiled inwardly always knowing she would make a good mother one day. I gazed upon her face and my heart raced. She'd been crying. Tear stains streaked her pallor cheeks. A lump forged in my throat.

She glanced my direction her hazel eyes rimmed with tears. I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. She uttered not a sound but returned to gaze out the window again. I raced to her side and dropped on my knees. "Marie," I pleaded. "I'm so sorry baby. It just slipped out...I never...in my heart truly meant what I said. The baby is mine. I know it."

She looked at me then, her thick eyebrows bunching together. Her full mouth quivered. "How," she croaked. "How could think so low of me? Don't you trust me?"

I reached for her hand and she let me take it. I glided my finger between her slender digits, baking it their warmth. "I do."

"Then why?"

A haggard pant rushed out my chest. I dropped my head shaking. "I don't know. It's a guy thing." Her eyes narrowed. My attempt at humor was poor. "I'm scared."

She gripped my hand. "So am I."

"I don't know how to be a father Marie," I swallowed. "I never had one per say. Every father figured I collected either died or let me down. I'm just afraid I'll let our baby down."

Her fingers curled under my chin, inching my face upwards to reach her eyes. She smiled weakly. "You haven't let me down...except for this little maneuver...you've been good to me."

"I won't run out on you again Marie," I said, trailing my fingers up the length of her arm then stroking her cheek. She placed her hand over mine and pressed it to her face.

"You better not," she said. "Or I'll hunt you down and kick your ass. I'm stronger now."

I quirked an eyebrow. "How so?" I asked intrigued by this new development.

She leaned close brushing her lips against mine. "I tell you later."

I deepened the kiss seeking out the warm treasures her mouth provided. I snake an arm about her lithe and full curves, drawing up close to gain better access to her sweet lips. A loud gasp came suddenly and I pulled back afraid I was hurting her or the baby. But she simply grabbed my hand and placed it on her stomach.

"You feel that," she laughed exuberantly. "The baby moved."

"What?" I said dumbfounded.

She maneuvered my hand over the swell of her belly. "Here," she said. "It was like bubbles being released in my stomach." She pressed my fingers to lower right quadrant and waited. "Do you feel it?"

I then felt a small vibe against my hand and let out a breath in wonder. "Yeah," I cried.

"Somebody wants to say hello," she said her eyes shinning.

At the first sign of life my resolve renewed. Come hell or high water I was going stay right by her side. I knew there would be hard times I would want to chuck the whole thing and ditch her. I knew I couldn't. She needed me. The baby needed me.

Our baby _needed_ me.

"Are you hungry?" I blurted out. "Do you need anything? What can I get you?"

"You can help me to the bed," Rogue said stretching out her arms.

"Alright." I stood and drew her up slowly, guiding her ever so gently to the bed. I fluffed several pillows before laying her on the comfy mattress. I dropped to one knee and took off her shoes and started massaging her toes.

"Watch it bub," she giggled her face glowing. "A girl could get use to this."

-------------------------------------

_Bobby's POV:_

At 7:30 am the mansion awoke in a tizzy. Why? John Allerdyce was the reason. He'd returned without forewarning, swaggering into the mansion like he owned the place. I expected resistance especially from Wolverine, but it seemed Ms. Munroe held his leash quite tightly. Their secret was out. We all knew they were having a torrid affair and as always at the mansion gossip spread. To my dismay, there was hardly a scornful glance or a high raised voice. Did everyone take stupid pills and forget he'd abandoned Rogue to God knows where? And where did he go those last few weeks? I didn't care I only wished he had stayed there. I hated how his disappearance affected Rogue, although, she ignored my attempts to open a window of communication.

She was pleased _he_ was safe. To her nothing else mattered.

John quickly picked up his role as expectant father, running errands here and there, and making late night trips to the kitchen whenever a craving rouse Rogue out of sleep. I plotted ways to rid myself of him. Even thought about icing the stairs so he would slip and break his neck. I was almost tempted. One disadvantage swayed me. Some innocent soul awakening in the middle of the night and making a venture to the kitchen instead of him. Hard to explain the ice on the stairs to Ms. Munroe and with Logan probing me with little inquiries to sudden end of I and Rogue's friendship. I couldn't risk getting busted for foul play.

What was beginning to bug me was John slowly making friends within my circle. Just the other day, Kitty invited him to our ritual pizza and a movie on Saturday night. Seated in the far side of the room, the shadows nicely concealed the bitterness laced across my face, and I watched in rage as John was accepted into our little group. I tensed when Rogue threw her shapely legs onto his lap as she reclined on the sofa and ate a pizza loaded with anchovies. Grinning, John tickled her feet and skimmed his hands up her legs. She giggled and kicked before settling down to allow him access to her swollen ankles. He massaged deeply casting her hungry looks every now and then. The desire in her eyes answered his heated lust.

I dug my fingers into the arms of the sofa, unknowingly frosting the fabric. I let out a growl as John leaned close and kissed her knee. Unable to withstand the scene, I shoved out the chair and stumbled out the room, narrowly trampling Jubilee and stepping into Peter's pizza.

"Hey," he cried. "Watch it!"

"Sorry," I growled bursting out the Rec room. I caught John's devious eyes just as I exited the room. Extreme hate consumed me and I clenched my fist in a tight ball. I couldn't breathe and was desperate for air. A few rights and lefts I was outside pacing the yard. The cold was not a bother. I was after all Iceman. I couldn't understand how things had gotten to this state. When was John suddenly our friend? The guy was a murderer. Raged and ravaged. Destroyed dozens of facilities harvesting the cure and God knows what else. Were people in this mansion so damn naïve? In all the years I've known him he cared about himself and his freakin fire. If he had stayed away Rogue, in her grief, would come to me. I know it.

It was his fault.

A pang of remorse set me down on the granite fountain. The water had long frozen without my assistance. It brought to mind one moment that seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Remember the time we snuck out here?"

"Yeah," I replied just as Kitty stepped out of the darkness and into the gleam of security lights bathing the grounds of the mansion. They had been new additions to the estate. Ever since the invasion the Professor had taken great precautions. He wanted to make sure what transpired those years ago would never happen again.

Kitty walked and stopped right in front of me. Her wholesome eyes were filled with concern. "You okay Bobby?"

"Yeah," I said scratching the back of my head. She didn't look convinced as she took a seat beside me.

"Come on Bobby," she said. "We're pals. We could always talk to one another."

"You sound as if our friendship has up and died."

"It hasn't."

"Really," I grimaced.

She drew back slightly. "What's the problem?"

I rose to my feet and stared down at her. "John is the problem. How could you guys welcome him back like that?"

"Some people are trying to move on Bobby," she said. "People make mistakes. The past is the past."

"He betrayed us Kitty and joined forces with a maniac that tried to kill Rogue."

She glared at me. "I haven't forgotten but bitterness and malice leads to nowhere. John is obviously trying to make amends and he's good to Rogue. Why can't you see that?"

"Because he's not supposed to be with her—I am!"

I saw Kitty's face shatter into a thousand pieces. A gleam of wetness welled underneath her thick long lashes. She nodded so slowly I didn't think I saw her head move. An 'okay' came in a broken whisper. I stormed away not bothering to think about how much I had hurt her and destroyed the hopes she'd built on us having a future. I was too wrapped up in my feelings for Rogue to care about anyone else. I walked a good distance and circled to the far side of mansion. Gazing up to second story I marked Rogue's window. The lights were on and shadows moved on the wall.

She wasn't alone.

He was there with her.

The shadows danced and tailed the beings projecting them. I didn't have to be present to discern what was going on. Tortured, I observed the pair rekindle their passion. The lights dimmed and my heart went cold.

John was making love to her.

-------------------------------------

"You're up late," a cocky voice invaded the large kitchen.

Back to the door, I reared slightly, gripping the spoon full of ice cream. "Couldn't sleep," I said, fighting the ache to smash my fist into the smug grin I knew molded John's mouth this instant.

He walked soundlessly about the kitchen. I heard cabinets and draws open. I felt the cold rush of air and knew he was digging in the fridge for something to eat.

"She hungry?"

"No," John answered pouring some Trix cereal into a bowl and adding milk. "I am. I need to recharge the battery."

I heard the mockery in his tone. He was baiting me. Frost coated the entire spoon. I dropped the utensil and thundered off the stool and stood hands thick with ice. "I want you gone John," I hissed. "Leave tonight."

He stood there, eating his cereal, looking at me as though I had lost my mind. "Go where," he scoffed. "I belong here."

"You don't belong a goddamn place! I want you gone Allerdyce!"

"I go where Marie goes. I stay where she stays. You don't like it. Tough."

He continued eating his cereal in a slow and meticulous manner savoring every bite. I couldn't stand it and shot a frozen dart at the bowl. It exploded in his hands and drenched his grey shirt. John looked down at the mess then raised gleaming yellow eyes to mine. Fire flickered inside his large pupils. His ruddy skin altered to mimic the unstable surface of sun. "I nearly killed you once Drake," his voice low and menacing. "I don't want to have to send you home to mommy and daddy in a coffin."

"Highly unlikely," I grunted, coaxing my skin to take on the novel skin that chiseled my flesh into ice.

John tipped his head. "That's a nice trick."

"You're not the only one that can change his spots."

"What the hell's going on in here?"

John and I swiftly reverted back to our normal selves. I grabbed the stool and lifted it to stand and jump back on it. Logan came charging in kitchen wearing his normal attire of boxers and not much else. Didn't the guy feel any sense of modesty towards the younger girls lurking the mansion.

His skin was slick with sweat and usual unruly hair was chaotic. Ideas flooded my brain. He burned his eyes into John then turned to me. "I heard a scuffle clear cross the mansion."

"There was no scuffle," John said plainly scrapping the broken pieces of the bowl up and dumping them in the trash. He then mopped the white fluid with a dish towel. "Bobby and I were having a little chat."

"John I warned you—"

"Yeah, yeah," he grounded out. "You keep telling me. I'm the culprit! Well tell him to stay away from Rogue. Unless you want her winding up with another nasty bruise like before."

Logan narrowed his eyes looking from John to me. "What's he talking about?"

John shot at hard glance at me. "Ask him!" He charged out the kitchen leaving me alone to face a riley brute.

-------------------------------------

_Kitty's POV:_

_He loved her!_

In my heart I was aware of Bobby's feelings but I never fully grasp how deep they ran till he openly admitted the truth. I clenched my eyes shut and combated the tears. Anguish swallowed me into a dark foreboding place. I hardly had to strength to rise and go into the mansion. I just sat there at the place where dreams were kindle by a moonlit skate on a frozen fountain. Now those dreams were gone. I shivered whether from the cold or crushed spirit it was unknown. All I do know is that I had wasted three years of my life.

Three years.

It was such a long time, such a waste.

The cold permeated my thin sweater and hit my body in a tremendous rush. I trembled hard unable to stave off the offending weather as I clamped my arms about my torso. The tears, damn tears, ran freely down my cheeks. I hated them. Hated Bobby. Hated the lost years. I longed to scream but the cries merely vibrated inside my chest. Pants of air fogged the cold as I sniffed and exhaled.

It was a damn waste.

God what was I going to do now? I wanted to recite a prayer I'd learned as a child. A prayer that always had a calming effect on me. Raised in a Jewish home the law and tradition were the way of the Pryde household. Yet in my state the prayer felt hollow and God so far away. I lifted my eyes to the heaven and wondered if this was punishment for falling in love with a gentile. I lowered my head knowing full well God didn't play with hearts in such a manner. I could hear my mother voice inside my head.

Such a waste!

Succumbing to grief, I thrust my face into the palm of my hands and wept. I startled when I felt a blanket being draped about my shoulders. I whirled in my seat to see Peter towering over me. I caught my breath, stunned, and slapped my hands across my face to dry the cold tears.

"Are you alright Katya?"

**Mini Note: I need a Beta reader someone to double check the mistakes I make. Anyone up for it?**


	12. Chapter XII

**Author's Note:** I will be adding some new point's of views in the upcoming chapters. Also, thanks for the helpful hints Dead Sparrow. Please review.

* * *

Chapter XII

_Peter's POV:_

Observing Kitty as she wept by the ice covered water fountain I realized then and there something was wrong. Nevertheless, I wasn't going to press my luck for I knew she was crazy about Bobby. In fact, the entire mansion was aware of her infatuation including Iceman, but sadly he was too brain dead to do anything except sulk around the mansion. I watched her raise a trembling hand to her face and wipe away tears.

She must be cold.

I wasn't surprised. The temperatures had dipped into the low forty's early this evening. Was she trying to catch her death of cold? I hurried inside and extracted a wool throw covering the sofa in the library. It was not being occupied so no one would miss it. As I scurried down the cobbled path to the fountain, I began to deconstruct the essential elements of my relationship with Kitty.

Honestly, there was none.

Of course a mutual respect as members of the X-Men was prevalent, yet a simple hello or nod was the extent to our traded conversations. I never had the courage to speak to her personally. Why? I was terribly shy. Sure people would take one good look at me and believe I was a man who commanded respect. If the truth were told, I would be a laughing stalk. But being a child of the former Soviet Union and bearing the horror of Rasputin as a family heirloom, my character was structured into a timid and quiet guy with a love of art.

Kitty assumed I maintained my distance because I didn't like her. It was the complete opposite. I admired her drive and tenacity. She was determined to be the best in everything, especially in the Danger Room. It was there she put her best foot forward and went out on the limb for her teammates, particularly where Bobby was concerned. She shadowed and tailed him persistently; guarded his every move. It bothered me that day of training, as it most assuredly disturbed Rogue, to see her in his arms. Her features softened when her eyes reached his face. I felt my stomach tie into a knot. She looked into his eyes as if they bore the mysteries of the universe.

I wasn't envious at the time, but little by little, emotions and desires I tried to suppress started to blossom. I had to constantly remind myself Kitty was in love with someone else. I became restrained and built a hedge around my heart. Whenever we were alone, I was curt, even harsh, to her. She would recoil in alarm, but what was I to do?

It was Bobby she wanted, right?

Unwilling to embarrass myself and fearful I would say something foolish I stood aside and watched her feelings for Bobby flourish. She was forever close to his side, nipping at his heels, almost desperate to give him the affection I would equally return to her. At times I wanted to grab and shake her until sense flooded her mind. Tell her she was making a fool out of herself and that she was wasting her time.

But what was the use?

If he was the guy she wanted I couldn't stand in her way, but I never dreamed it would end so badly for her. Weird as always, Bobby left the room in the middle of the movie. I presumed he could stand to see Rogue and John snuggled on the couch. I almost felt sorry for the guy.

Almost.

At the end of the film, arms laden with empty pizza boxes, I headed outside the freezing cold to the incinerator. With a school filled with mutant children, a weekly garbage man might stumble onto something he wouldn't care to see. The Professor was always one step ahead of everything. I marked Bobby and Kitty by the fountain and my heart sank. I guess Iceman finally wised up to the idea Rogue was off limits. I tried not to admit how the sight of the pair was a lot to handle, but it was. Sour, I shoved the cardboard into the incinerator and activated the unit. I lingered nearby, soaking up the invigorating heat as it seeped through the metal.

Minutes later, an alarm alerted me that the process was complete, and I hustled back to the mansion. I didn't want to see Bobby and Kitty cozy together, but it was hardly the case. She was alone and crying. I felt a pull in my chest and my jaw hardened like granite.

Bobby.

I hardly spoke a word as I returned with a blanket and placed it about her shoulders. She looked up into my face, cheeks wet with tears, mouth quivering. "Thanks," she said, slightly puzzled, and then started to rid her face of the abdominal tears. Afterwards, she snuggled into the blanket and continued to stare into nothing.

"Were you trying to freeze yourself to death?" I asked.

She raised her eyes to mine and I was crushed by their immense sadness. I struggled to gather my riling emotions and keep them in check. I wanted to wrap my hands around Bobby's throat. "The thought crossed my mind," she mumbled.

"This household has been haunted by the shadows of death long enough Katya," I remarked. "I doubt we have the strength to endure your lost."

I knew I wouldn't.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm out here?"

I shook my head. "No. I just want to get you inside where it's warm." I held out my hand. My heart thundered the whole time it lingered in the air. She looked at it then at me.

"Alright," she nodded and slipped her hand in mine. It was so small in comparison, delicate, feminine. I drew her up and escorted her to the mansion.

"I thought you didn't like me," she said once we reached the main foyer.

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked keeping my eyes pinned on the view in front. I was nervous and hesitant to look in her sweet face.

"We've hardly spoken more than a few words till now," she said. "Whenever we're in the same room, you act as if I have the plague or something."

"If I've offended you I'm sorry," I said as we climbed the stairs to the student dorms.

Kitty chuckled. "You haven't offended me Peter. I just thought—"

"It's not what you think," I replied rather quickly once we reached her door. She shared a room with Jubilee, the biggest loud mouth in the mansion, and another docile mutant named Siryn.

"Then what is it?"

Her gentle voice hit me like a stiff breeze. I found myself struggling for words. Anxious, beads of sweat emerged on my brow. "I don't know—I—I'm a jerk."

She laughed. "No, just uptight."

I cocked a grin and bid her goodnight. I turned and headed to boys side of the dormitory. _I'm a jerk? _Thoughts crowded. Stupid! Why did I say that? Loser. That's what I was a total loser. "Sleep well Peter," she said loud enough for me to hear.

"You too Katya."

"It's Kitty."

I paused and turned slightly. "What?"

"My name," she smiled. "It's Kitty."

"I know."

-----------------------------------------

_Logan's POV:_

"I want answers bub," I snarled, minutes after John's departure. I hovered over Bobby like a ravenous vulture. I didn't trust Pyro's dark insinuation about Iceman and Rogue, but the seeds had been planted and were just now beginning to take root. "What was Pyro talking about?"

Bobby shrugged and casually dipped his spoon into a carton of Edy's Cookies and Cream. "Beats the hell out of me."

"He said somethin' about you and Rogue. What's this shit about a bruise—"

He rolled his eyes and took a mouth full of the rich desert. "How should I know?"

I seized him by his shirt and yanked him off the stool. I held him within a few inches from my face. "If I talk to Rogue and find out you've hurt her in any way—"

"You'll do what?" He clucked, his eye brows bunching together in a frown. "Beat me up? Why don't you focus your time and energy on banging Ms. Munroe instead of picking on us underdogs?"

I tipped my head in astonishment. His behavior was crude and out of sorts. He wasn't the normal Scott Summers' clone walking around pointing fingers and making corrections on everyone. The arrogant prick was acting like John. I growled. "You're lucky you're in the safe confines of this house bub, 'cause—"

Ororo's voice surged into the room. "What is going on here?" She stood transfixed within the kitchen doorway, looking haggard and sleep worn. She wore a rumpled shirt that was two sizes too large. It was one I had on earlier in the day. She must have scrapped it off the floor rather than search her dresser for a nightgown. "Bobby, what's wrong?"

He ripped out my hold and stepped back. "Nothing," he muttered and stormed out the kitchen.

Storm entered shaking her head. "What now Logan? What is with you and those boys?" I snarled at her impertinent question and turned my eyes to the carton of ice cream melting on the island counter. I was determined to find out what Pyro eluded to tell me and what Iceman failed to deliver. What did Bobby do to Rogue? Why hadn't she told me about it? I'll demand answers I in the morning.

"The kid's got a bug up his ass."

"So do you, but do I hassle you about it?" she teased.

I fanned my face to her. She was smiling and her eyes were swimming in delight. She crossed to me and wrapped her arms about my neck. "Bobby is dealing with his feelings for Rogue and her relationship with John, give him time."

"I like to tear him a new attitude," I growled.

"Put the claws away Rex," she said and pecked my lips with her sumptuous mouth. Her scent poured into my nostrils, alerting me to arousal. I gathered her fully and claimed her mouth. I kissed her hungrily, drowning in the intoxicating mixture of her and a splash of Hennessy.

She tasted wonderful. I couldn't get enough.

I heard her let out an angry grunt when I severed our kiss. "Logan," she gasped. "Take me to bed or lose me forever."

"Sure thing darlin'." I scooped her in my arms and carried her out of the kitchen.

-----------------------------------------

"Drop it Logan!" Rogue exclaimed in an exasperated tone the next morning. I cornered her in Ororo's office; she was stuffing some files into a large cabinet. She was happy to see me, which was unusual, until I started to cross examine her about her run in with Bobby.

"Not till I get to the bottom of this," I shouted. "Pyro mentioned you were in some sort of scuffle with Bobby. Now what did the little shit do to you?"

She slammed the cabinet shut. Using Storm's desk, she eased to her feet. "It was nothing, okay. He grabbed me but—"

I blinked, unsure I'd heard her correctly. "He did what?"

She rolled her eyes. "I took care of it Logan. It was months ago! God, you're just like John you won't let some things drop. I'm not going let what happened consume my entire existence."

"Don't compare me to your boy toy," I grumbled and charged for the door. She swept into my front view. I was stunned by her speed and agility especially in her condition. "Leave it alone Logan. I've seen that look in you're eyes millions of times to know what you plan to do. It's a New Year and I want to begin it with a clean slate."

"His blood will be on my hands," I said, ignoring and moving her aside.

She pushed at me roughly, eyes livid. "I don't need you to protect me anymore Logan," she said, annoyed. "I have John, I don't need you." With that she spun around and marched out of the office.

Her words slashed into me deeply. I stood there, alone, and completely confounded.

I didn't know how long I was in the room. I didn't even hear Ororo enter as I stood beside the window and watched the younger students engage in a snowball fight. She set her workload on her desk and came over to me. "Logan?" She skimmed her hands up and down my back, massaging gently. "You okay?"

I didn't answer and watched Rogue scamper across the snow covered lawn and throw her arms about Pyro's neck. He gave her a wholesome kiss and the couple walked arm in arm and settled on a bench beneath the naked Oak trees. "She doesn't need me anymore," I croaked.

Ororo eased a smile across her lips. "She's a grown woman Logan," she said once she knew who I was talking about and laid her head on my back. "It's time to let go."

I didn't say a word. I couldn't let it die as Rogue asserted. How could I when I had a terrible feeling Bobby was up to no good.

-----------------------------------------

_Ororo's POV:_

A crisis was brewing.

Things were getting from bad to worse. On the news there were daily reports of assaults on mutants and various communities by the radical group Friends of Humanity. The attacks were organized and reaching an all time high. Visions of buildings smoldered in ash, dead bodies lying in the streets, and riots filled me with great unease. Every second an interruption in the daily broadcast would prelude the impending gloom of the outside world.

Several of the younger students started to have nightmares. It was difficult to calm and reassure a child whose future was bleak simply because they were born different. It grew to a point where I banned the students from watching TV and even installed a curfew. The older students voiced their opinions; proclaimed they weren't going to be intimidated by ignorance, but my decision was final. I knew I couldn't wipe away the reality surrounding them, yet for a moment they would have the peace of the mansion.

Hank made his routine visit to the mansion to see to Rogue and with information from the White House. He was breeching protocol, but he could trust us. Friends of Humanity were spreading their wings globally. Their membership increased by the hour. They even had a website and money was pouring in. It was unclear who was financing the group. Anyone with abhorrence for mutants was obviously making a donation. Several Senators were rumored to have seats on a secret council and that they were intellect behind whole organization. Hank was assured of one Senator's identity.

"His name is Graydon Creed." Hank began the preliminaries to a new threat to mutants in the study beside the withered garden. "A racist bigot with nothing more than a seeming hatred for all mutants."

"So what else is new," Logan said in a low grumbled.

"His background is obscure from what I could discover from his file. He's an orphan, wealthy, has political connections on foreign soil, and does seem to have the means to gain a candidacy for the presidency in 2012." My eyes became as wide as golf balls. "I know I shudder to think what a man like that would do if he does gain the Oval Office." Hank closed the yellow folder and pushed it forward on the coffee table.

"How do you know he's apart of Friends of Humanity?" I asked, pouring him some coffee, the fine China rattling in my hands the whole time.

"I received hate mail from the group yesterday." Hank sipped his coffee. "The fool was stupid enough to use his office stationary. It must have been an itch he wanted to scratch."

Logan paced the richly furnished room. This new threat was so close he could damn near taste it as he clenched and unclenched his hands. "What now?"

"I'll keep tabs on Mr. Creed and have a few of my men tail him and see who he encounters." The secretary said. "There are people who desire good for both mutants and humans."

"What people?"

Hank gave him a stern look. "My people." He pushed out his seat and stood adjusting his suit. "In the meantime Ororo, I suggest you start reconvening the X-Men. Heaven forbid there will be a time when they are needed."

'Yes," I said, still shaken. "Thank you Hank."

"My pleasure," he smiled. "I'll show myself out."

"You okay?" Logan asked when the double doors closed.

"Yes," I exhaled, rubbing my throbbing temples. Everything seemed so bleak. Just when I thought mutants had taken a step forward. We were forced two giant leaps back. Our stand on Alcatraz had done nothing to change society's views on us. I started to wonder if Magneto was right all along. Whoa! Where did that thought slither in from? I quickly disregarded it.

I felt Logan's hand on my neck and relaxed. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just wondering. What would the Professor do in a situation such as this?"

"Knowing Chuck he'd want a one on one conversation with this Mr. Creed."

"Mmm," I hummed. "Charles always had a peaceful solution to any problem. The X-Men were always a last result."

-----------------------------------------

_Graydon Greed's POV:_

Perfection.

The epitome of masculine strength and beauty, yet within I was scathed by a vile red fluid pumping furiously through my heart and vessels. A greater truth lay hidden in a blood that wasn't pure, but polluted by a single genetic frailty. A tiny loop hole saved me from a harrowing existence among theses freak. However, I was constantly haunted by demons conjured by a past that was unknown, and that's how I desired to keep it. If members of my inner circle became aware I descended from a mutant bloodline I would be ruined. My tiny legion of faithful followers would dissipate like morning dew in the rising sun.

I would be cursed and run out of town or worse; eradicated.

Forcibly squeezing liquid soap into my hands, I rinsed in steaming hot water, and adjourned to my office. The spacious square foot room was actually a part of an abandoned bunker less than twenty miles outside the great capital. Situated one hundred feet beneath dirt, gravel, and steel it was formerly a bomb shelter. The design predated the Cold War a time when Americans were ignorant of mutants, but paranoid about the Soviet Union. The archaic base was to protect several powerful men in Washington from nuclear fallout. Now it sat rusting and housed a new agenda. Instead of liberty and democracy, it was the liberation of humanity.

"Have you what I need?" I asked as the door to my tiny office opened and a virile young man entered carrying a large carton.

"As you requested," the earnest associate said, resting a moldy white box sealed and stamped classified on my desk.

"Good," I snubbed and sent the recruit on his way with the flick of my wrist. The lad nodded and swung around ardent like a soldier and departed. _So young?_ I thought and so full of life. I started to wonder what other expectations could have awaited the boy. Hence, a bright future was unlikely. For he, like many others, was a run away searching for a purpose. And I gave them a purpose. Drive away what did not work. Cleanse society of the poor, sick, and disgusting. These mutants were a cancer that had to be purged, and day by day my plan was taking shape. Mutants previously documented in the premature stages of the Mutant Registration Act were done away with. Those mutants were meager class one and twos as so titled. Inefficient and incapable of fending off my battle hardened soldiers. After all, as they claim, a mutant was still human and so could be killed.

I stood and opened the crate and began dusting files I drew out of the old box. Satellite images were packed tightly in one folder. A distorted image of a jet rising out of what appeared to be a basketball court captured my attention. Blue prints were crumpled and folded down in the bottom right corner. I sat down and flipped through one file after the other, gorging myself on information William Stryker had compiled. So the rumors were true. It was a school. I narrowed my eyes on the man responsible for its creation.

"Professor Charles Xavier," I muttered, paying close attention to his image. I tossed the photo aside and scanned others tucked underneath two files. It wasn't long before a blue skinned abomination jumped at me. Her skin was unappealing. It mirrored the flesh of a swamp creature abiding in the Amazon Jungle. I sneered at her bewitching eyes and flicked the image aside to breeze through her profile. My lungs tightened. Raven Darkholme.

She was the one.

-----------------------------------------

_Mystique's POV:_

"Don't call here again!" Rogue screamed in a harsh temper and slammed the phone hard on the receiver. Damn! Out of loose change, I hung up and stepped out of the phone booth. I suppose there wasn't going to be a sweet mother daughter reunion, especially after the way I treated her the last time, to which, I was regrettably sorry. But I had a lot on my mind and wasn't expecting a visit from her so soon. I thought it would take a day or two for the information provided on the disk to soak into her mind. Besides, I wasn't exactly the sensitive type.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I walked the short distance to my hotel. It was up the block. I never used the phone provided in my suite to make calls to the X-Mansion. I didn't want a record kept I was telephoning a household crawling with mutants. No one knew for certain, but after the first invasion, I couldn't risk the welfare of my daughter. I hustled across the street and weaved through traffic, yearning for the security of my bedroom. I was tired of presenting a false façade of pale skin and dazzling blond hair. It didn't feel right. It was a lie and yet I continued to portray this untruth to world.

When would I ever be me and feel the acceptance and security as Grace? Never. Not if society condemned us and thirsted for mutant blood. Friends of Humanity were creating a frenzy and the media ate up every cold blooded onslaught against mutants. As I entered the hotel, I felt one of the receptionists give me a quizzical look, and I squeezed my fingers. Did she think I didn't belong? Well, I was attired in a traditional wardrobe fit for street walkers. A skin tight blue dress molded every curve of my body and the heels clapped loudly against the marble floor.

I cast a penetrating glance and she lowered her eyes swiftly to her work. High tailing to the elevator I stepped in and leaned into the cool glass. Seconds later I caught a guarded look from a miserly old woman. She stared me up and down and clung to her purse. I wanted to morph into a hideous beast that would scare the living daylights out of her and give the old bitch a heart attack. However, there were too many witnesses.

Ding!

"Excuse me," I eased passed my lips and stepped onto my floor. At my door, I swiped my card and tossed it aside as I kicked off my heels. I crossed to the mini bar and pulled out a small carton of orange juice and a bottle of vodka.

"You always did have exemplary taste," a man said in refined English.

That voice!

Gripping the glass, I turned ever so slowly, my heart thumping erratically. "Erik?" I couldn't tell by the beard and rumpled state of the wane old man sitting in my couch. He smiled and wrapped his fingers about his cane and drew it up against the sofa. Rage surged inside me. "How the hell did you find me?"

"I could always find you."

"How did you get in here?" I almost yelled at the top of my lungs.

"It was quite simply really," he said in an eloquent manner. "I told these fools I was your grandfather and they believed me."

I took a huge gulp of my drink. "Really," I scoffed, coughing. "Whatever you're selling this time old man I'm not buying. I've seen the rewards of those who've served you with full dedication." I morphed from a graceful blond to a tired, angry mutant. He arched a brow in amusement.

Erik laughed drawing more of the vexing hatred I felt for him. "Come now," he said. "Did you actually expect me to sweep you into my arms, carry you away, and nurse you back to health? Would the mutants taking camp appreciate a human in their midst?" He shook his head. "You have your priorities in a jumble my dear. We are fighting a war, not opening a shelter. Mutant domination comes first before any friend and ally that stand by my side. You've always known what I was my dear, so your anger is not only unfounded, it's ridiculous."

I would hate him if he wasn't making sense. The cause was important and sacrifices would eventually be made over and over till mutants were the supreme authority. Still, I was hurt by the fact he'd left me cold and naked in the armored truck. He could have covered me with his cloak for goodness sake.

"What do you want," I demanded after a blistering silence.

"You know what I want," he replied.

I rolled my eyes and cocked my head. "A shave and a shower?"

"Touché," he said grimly. "But besides that, your position—"

Yellow pupils flashed dangerously. "No Erik," I hissed.

"You don't wish to safe guard the future."

"There is no future with you."

His mouth curled into a smile. "What about your daughter?"

"You son-of-a bitch!" I hissed and stomped over to him. Erik manipulated the bolts in the coffee table to bar my path. I widened my eyes. "Your strength has returned."

"Naturally."

I shrugged, unamused. "It doesn't matter what you say, I won't be your pet again."

"Oh be rational," he said. "I need you more than I'm willing to admit. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"It counts that I'm a puppet, but I won't take it lying down, not this time." I grounded out. "I won't be used for your so-called principles only to be discarded later, and I'm sure neither would Rogue. She's grown up and she's wiser." Ending our little conversation I stormed to my bedroom.

Erik shifted his cane, watching as I departed, not picking up on his cue to leave. "I doubt she'll be of much use to me or even the X-Men, not with the baby on the way."

I froze, mortified. "Baby?" I swung round to see a self satisfied look on his face. "What baby?"

"Oh," he said comically. "You don't know. She's pregnant and our little Pyro is the father."


	13. Chapter XIII

**Author's Note:**** I know what you're all going to say. Shame on me for not posting! It's been over two months. Why did I stay away so long even though I posted new story? I don't know. I just didn't feel inspired to work on this story. Anyway here's a new chapter...it's kind of short...but I'll get to speed again.**

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Chapter XIII

_Rogue's POV:_

"No way! There ain't no fuckin' way I'm joining you guys!"

A slew of curses, outbursts that would make a sailor blush, spilled out of John's mouth. Unlike most people circling the hallway, I wasn't horrified by his crude and offensive behavior. I lived with the guy so I was use to the profanity.

"It's got nothin' to do with that." Logan glared at him. He looked anxious to throttle my boyfriend to death. "Hell, I don't want you within five miles of this place yet you're here. It shows how far I've come, which should please Storm." He muttered. He smelled this to be a rotten idea from the start, but he couldn't exactly get the latest headmistress to see his point of view. Despite his efforts to sway Ororo, her decision was final. The X-Men were to reconvene with additions to the team and John was a likely candidate. "Besides with all the shit that's going on you gotta be ready to protect Rogue and the baby."

"I can take care of myself," I huffed, folding my arms, disliking how they thought I was completely helpless because I was pregnant.

"Not in you're condition," they said at the same time.

Throwing my hands in the air, I left them to bicker and grumble about the possibility of becoming teammates. Needless to say, as I walked away, Logan's words returned with great purpose and I trembled.

He was right.

There was not a day or hour did the news not portray the horrors of the outside world. Friends of the Humanity were globalizing. Mutants were mobilizing, retaliating, and to everyone's astonishment Magneto was not holding the reigns. It caused a few like Storm to question his whereabouts. The Cure was unsuccessful which concluded their old nemesis would be up to no good. Each morning Dr. McCoy read reports on the internet from all over the world. Some mutants claimed to have experience a dramatic alteration in their powers, demonstrating abilities that were unimaginable.

I started to think about myself while climbing the steps to the third floor and also thought about Mystique. Displeasure marred my face in light of her deception. For months she had been in my refuge, pretending to be a household feline. She deceived me. Why? We never did have that conversation and I didn't want to. She still called every now and then disguised in a voice no other member in the mansion would recognize. She said she wanted to see me and these days she was growing insistent. I was worried she'd discovered about me and John and know I was pregnant. But would she gain from that knowledge. It's not like she would be an affectionate grandmother.

Sighing, I went to our bedroom discreetly tucked in the southern east side of the mansion. We had moved out of our cramp room on the second floor, and into a spacious apartment designated for faculty. A baby room was fixed in hasty expectation. Walking about the yellow and lace frilled nursery, tears splashed down my cheeks. All the glee and sweet charm couldn't stifle a heart rendering fear swelling inside me. Our baby, our child, was going to be born in _this_ world. Face _this_ hatred. God, if I could save our baby from this hell I would. I exited the room and sank down on the bed. Memories of another night poured into my head.

What if someone should attack the mansion?

"John, what are we going to do?" I asked as he entered late in the evening looking slightly glum. I take his one on one with Logan didn't go swimmingly.

"About what?" He kicked off his boots and shook out of his jeans. He flung his pants over the back of a chair and popped his shoulder as he stretched.

I sat far back against the bed head, dressed in a blue night gown, my legs tucked under a quilt. "What are we going to do if someone tries to attack the mansion again?"

John turned slowly, lowering his arms. His face was set and jaw line hard. He looked at me then lowered his eyes to my hands resting protectively on my swollen belly.

"I'm not running again...ever." He spoke in a manner that severed all doubts toiling in my head. This time there would be no escaping in the middle of the night. No fleeing. He would stand and fight to the bitter end.

My face softened into a timid, frightened smile as I bid him to come take his place by side. I didn't say another word as he crawled under the covers and stretch his muscled leg beside mine. I just wanted him to hold me. I wanted revel in his heat and allow his undying flames to coax out the fear haunting me. John did just that. He held me in his arms and strummed his fingers in my hair. I felt myself relaxing, sleep covering on my like a warm blanket. Yawning, I let it wash over me.

---------------------------------

On Tuesday morning training resumed with sessions in the gym and Danger Room. Apparently, no one appeared to have a problem fighting along side John, except Logan and Bobby, but surprisingly they kept their opinions to themselves. I, on the other hand, had to take an immediate sabbatical due to my _fragile_ state. So, I spent most days lounging in the sidelines or up in the booth. Yet as the days passed, I started to grow tired of the mundane rituals that kept me under the constant guard Logan shadow. Even though I told him I no longer required his protection, I knew he lurked somewhere in the halls.

"You should use you're defensive maneuvers more," I suggested, watching John stagger off the thick mat after a rough match with Colossus. He crashed onto the floor where I sat observing one of the numerous physical activates taking place in the gym. "What do you know," he snorted, panting heavily.

"Nothing," I said, shifting for a comfortable position. "I was jut making an observation."

He grunted and picked up a bottle of water and twisted off the cap. Tipping it to his lips, he guzzled down half the mountain spring liquid then let out a loud belch.

"You're disgusting," I scowled.

"Yeah," he said leaning close to nuzzle the side of my neck, "but you love me."

"Stop," I cried, pushing at his sweat clad body. "Ewww, you stink." He gave me a wry smile and dropped his head into my lap.

"Never bothered you before."

I blushed madly. "That's different."

"How different?"

"You know?" I said, my lips curling into a cheeky grin.

He smiled cutely and lifted his head, brushing his cheek against my belly, which had increased in girth.

"How's my baby?" he asked.

My face beamed in delight. "Fine," I said, smoothing my hands over my stomach, and catching my breath when I felt a small tremor. "Despite the baby's unusual growth pattern Dr. McCoy says everything is quite normal. He figures it would be another three weeks or so before the baby is born."

"Three weeks, shit," he snickered. "There goes our night of blissful sleep."

"Very funny."

He gave me a mocking smile and jumped to his feet. "I'm gonna take a shower. I'll be right back."

"Make sure to scrub under both arms John," I giggled as he flicked his towel at me.

He turned and headed for the locker room which was on the far side of the gymnasium. I eased to my feet, which wasn't easy. I found it increasingly difficult these past few weeks to do the simplest things. Climbing out of bed, putting on my shoes, or bending over to pick up something was a physical task. John had been wonderful the whole time. So understanding, so helpful, it wasn't like him but I was not going to complain. I hobbled over to a bench and continued to watch Logan tirelessly instruct some of the younger students in hand to hand combat.

"Hey," Kitty said taking a seat on the bench next to me.

"Hi." I smiled and eyeballed the bag in her possession. "What you got there?"

She held it out to me. "A gift for you," she giggled. "Well, actually, it's for the baby."

"Oh Kitty," I cried out excitedly, clutching the bag. "You shouldn't have. I've already got tons of baby stuff from the baby shower last week."

"I know, but this is something I made myself," she remarked. "Go ahead, open it."

My hands dove in the bag pushing aside the layers of thin paper concealing the item below. "Oh," I gasped retrieving a beautiful, green baby blanket. "Kitty."

"My grandmother was of those Jewish ladies that sat around and knit a lot. She taught me a few things so..." she shrugged, rocking happily on the bench.

"I love it!" I cried, flinging an arm around her, and hugging her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome sweetie." She held me close and patted my back. "So, what are you doing later on today?"

"I signed John and me up for a Lamaze class," I said, carefully folding the blanket and putting it back into the bag.

"Lamaze! What the hell for?"

Kitty and I raised our heads simultaneously to see John standing a good feet away. He had an expression on his face that looked as if I had lost my mind.

I arched a brow and tossed my head in the air. "You're done fast."

"You'd be surprise what a man can do in five minutes."

Kitty squirmed. "Please," she grimaced. "I don't want to picture it."

"Shut up," he glowered. "Why are we bothering with those classes, they're a waste of time."

I crossed her arms, my eyes flashing. "John, those classes are essential. They'll help prepare us for parenthood and show us what to expect in the delivery room."

"What's to prepare for? Just ask Dr. McCoy to dope you up on Morphine."

"First of all," I huffed. "It's an Epidural and secondly, I'm not taking drugs, I'm going for natural childbirth."

John burst out in hysterics, laughing so loud he drew eyes from around the gym. "Natural! Babe, the second that pain kicks in you'll be beggin' for drugs."

"Shows what you know." I said. "Anyway, I want to go shopping for a nursing bra."

"Didn't you get sixty pairs last week at the baby shower," he said incredulously.

"They don't fit right," I whined. "I'm seeking comfort not just support. Besides I want to get some fresh air."

"Don't we go for a walk in the garden every afternoon?"

I kissed my teeth. "It's not the same." I cried. "The flowers are still dead from the long winter and the roses are withered."

John shifted his foot; looking strangely perplexed, he clawed his hand throw his damp hair. "Okay, we'll go up to Ms. Munroe's greenhouse later on."

"We did that yesterday and the day before that! God Johnny everything has become so predictable I'm bored out of my mind. How 'bout a little change in scenery for once. Let's go out into the city."

"It's too dangerous for anyone to be in the city at this time," he said, "especially if they're a mutant. You heard what Logan said."

I grew dark with rage. "You mean it's too dangerous for me. And since when do you give a rat's ass about what Logan says."

He glared at me, grabbing my wrist to draw me to my feet, and touched my belly. "Since I realized I could lose you and our baby."

As endearing as his words were it didn't sway the desperate hunger for liberation. Perhaps it was the Wolverine bouncing in head. Or maybe I was growing tired of the constant worrying. I yanked my hand out of his grip and took two steps back. Hot tears burned beneath my lashes.

"John, I'm fine. Nothing drastic is going to happen to me! You and Logan made sure of that, following me around with a pillow so when I fall I won't bruise my ass." I took a long, heavy breath. "I just want to go out for a little while. Is that so terrifying?"

"Not if you might get hurt." It was obvious he was losing his patience, but I didn't care. "Why do you need to go all they way to the damn any damn way," he continued.

"Because I'm suffocating here," I screamed. "And you're not making things any better." I turned sharply, paying no attention to the concerned stares darting at me from across the room. Storming out the gym, I walked swiftly down the hall, fighting the tears welling in my eyes. But I was just in listening distance to overhear Logan.

"Relax Pyro," he said. "It's just mood swings."

"Don't you think I know that!"

---------------------------------

"You look lousy."

"Ever the charming gentleman Bobby," I grumbled, toddling into the kitchen for something cool to drink. After crying for ten minutes straight in a quiet corner, and accepting the fact John wasn't going to gallantly come and take me in his arms, I went in search of something to satiate my pride and dry throat.

Mood swings. I'll show Logan mood swings.

"I was just making small talk," he snapped. "You don't have to act so grouchy."

Opening the fridge, I tossed him a dark glance. "I'm pregnant. Being a nasty bitch comes with the territory."

"Whatever," he muttered and took a bite of his sandwich.

"Oooh." I squealed reaching for the large jar of lemonade tucked in the back of the fridge. I set the jar on the counter and opened a cabinet. I selected a tall glass and poured the refreshing nectar. I drank two full glasses then half of a third. "Mmm," I hummed, leaning into the counter. "That hit the spot." I looked Bobby's direction. "Want some?"

"I've got mine," he said, gesturing to the glass beside his plate.

I shrugged and placed the jar inside the refrigerator. It was then John charged into the kitchen. Panting, he looked between me and Bobby in question and his lips tightened. He disregarded his former comrade and came to me. "I was looking all over for you."

"Really," I snubbed, sipping my juice. I looked him over and saw he had on a fresh suite of clothes. "I'm so glad to see you took the time to change as well."

"I had to get out those sweaty clothes," he replied. "I forget to bring a fresh pair to the locker room."

"You could have came and got me first," I pointed out.

John made a face. "Yeah, I'm sure you'd like smelling the stink on my clothes too." He shook his head in dismay. "Why are you like this Marie?"

I seethed with rage. "What am I like Pyro?"

By the look on his face, it was as though I had slapped him. I didn't figure calling him by code name he boldly declared would bother him. But it did, immensely. I shuddered inwardly and gripped the glass in my hand.

"I came here because I wanted to take you out."

"Where," I murmured. "To the garden."

He released a haggard breath. "Get you're coat will you."

"Don't tell me what to do," I snapped, walking past him.

He grabbed my arm. "Hey! What's with you?"

"If you don't know then you're dumber than you look." With that, I pulled free and walked out the kitchen.

"Mood swings," I hear Bobby sing and grew angrier.

What was with me?

John makes one small comment about not wanting to take Lamaze classes and I blow it all out of proportion. Perhaps everyone was right about me being moody. I got my coat out of the closet in the foyer. John was waiting patiently by the stairs, collecting his temper I suppose. I wouldn't blame him if he was upset. I was being a little hard to handle.

I caught my breath when I saw we were heading to the garage. We were actually going out and not just for a walk in the backyard. We were going for a drive. I was so excited and so ungrateful all at the same time. I couldn't look at him as we drove down the distant highway. He gaze was pinned on the road, slick due to the melting ice. He looked grim just shy of the raging, angry mutant he once was. Or still was. Fear and worry roused in me as I started wringing my hands in my lap.

"I'm sorry—for the—way I've been acting. I don't know—what came—over me." I said, hoping to smooth things over.

He turned his eyes from the road to briefly look at me. The cerulean depth glimmered like fire and his mouth tipped in a lopsided grin. He returned his eyes to the road but reached over and took my hand.

"It's cool," said John.

I clutched his hand, laying my own on top. His skin was so hot and so soft it revitalized my skin. "I love you."

"I know."

---------------------------------

_Hank's POV:_

Before the rays of dawn emerged over the horizon, I was down in the lower levels beneath the mansion, for reasons as simplistic as this. Inventory. There was no other way around it. It had to be done. As a credited physician I had undertaken the dearly departed Jean Grey's position in seeing that all medical supplies were stocked and machinery maintained.

The task was demanding.

From prescription drugs to over the counter medicine, the count was endless. I was overwhelmed with gladness on the third morning when I completed my duty. I made notes to contact suppliers for items that had run low in the clipboard, but other than that I was free. Relieved, I plucked off my glasses and stood to stretch my taut muscles. Glad to escape the oppressive room, I head to the large doors when I noticed one the cabinets had been left slightly ajar. I frowned and walked to the glass closure.

I was a perturbed.

If one of the students had broken in to steal pain killers, the entire student body was going to receive a serious lecture. My eyes quickly skimmed over the shelves, the last few days of concentration had trained my memory. Everything was accounted for except one particular drug. I had made the count yesterday, yet now I'd noticed I was short one critical and dangerous drug.


	14. Chapter XIV

**Author's Note:** **I know you're all going to call me crazy or schizo, but this continuance is all thanks to the influence of my sister, who read one of my chapters and liked it, and says that if I'm to get stronger and better at writing in a format. I have to keep trying. God I loathe, writing first person, but I'll do it.**

* * *

Chapter XIV

Ororo's POV:

"Hank! What are you saying? Are you accusing my students of stealing?"

"It's more than that Storm, a hell of a lot more, and you know it!" Hank hollered, his booming voice echoed throughout my spacious office, vibrating the windows almost to the point where the glass might shatter to pieces. "Don't you realize the seriousness of the situation?"

"Of course I do." I could tell by the way he was shaking, he was having a difficult time keeping his anger in check, and the beast within at bay. "What exactly was taken?" I asked diplomatically, clasping my hands together on top of my desk, while trying to understand what he was jabbering about. I was in the middle of completing the large stack of exam papers that was slowly teetering off my desk, when Hank charged into my office. His anger was evident and infamous, at times, but only to those of us who knew him well.

"Oxytocin," he stated, "and a great measure of Misoprostol."

I frowned, mildly stupefied. "Oxytocin?"

"Yes!" he snapped.

I narrowed my eyes critically at him, his tone some how a blatant affront to my calm, reserved manner. "Don't bark at me Hank. I'm not one of your incompetent puppets at the White House, now settle down and tell me exactly what this Oxytocin is?"

"I'm sorry Ororo," Hank said easy out a frustrated gasp of air. He sank into a large oak frame chair in front of my antique cedar desk. As he yank his tie free, his azure blue eyes lolled to the back of his head, and he took another deep breath. "Oxytocin is a mammalian hormone that also acts as a neurotransmitter in the brain. Its released from the pituitary gland when someone receives a hug or touch, or experiences an orgasm in both sexes. It is involved in social recognition and bonding, and may be involved in the formation of trust between people and generosity."

"And how exactly does this make it an extremely dangerous drug." I saw the glint rise in Hank's eyes and knew he wasn't too charmed by my sarcasm.

"In pregnant women Storm, it causes the disruption of the amniotic sac and the distention of the cervix and vagina, triggering labor. I purchased this drug for Rogue, in case, hell, for drastic measures only."

I felt my heart stop. An alarm went off in my brain as his explanation pushed into my mind loud and clear. Eyes wide, I stared at my colleague in absolute disbelief. "Hank…"

He leaned closed. "I don't need to question all the students Ororo just one."

"Bobby? Are you implying that he's sabotaging Rogue's pregnancy?" I whispered.

"He's the only one with a motive and access to the lower levels. If it's proof you need, " he pulled out a security disc from his pocket, lifting his eyes slowly to my face, and saddened. "I'm sorry."

Hot, angry tears burned in my eyes, the outrage, disbelief cutting me deep as the tears slid down my cheeks. "But…why?"

Hank shook his head. He was, clearly, as distressed as I was. "I think you and I know why?"

I surged to my feet and swung around my desk, stomping in full stride to the door. "Well, I tell you what I do know and what I'm going to do. Bobby Drake has exactly five seconds to tell if he want to die in the electric chair or by my…" Hank seized my wrist and spun around so fast I thought I was going to twirl right through the hardwood floor.

"He's the least of our concerns for the moment."

I reeled back in horror. "How can you say that? He's trying to…to…" I sniffed, blinking away the tears.

"As much as I'd love to throttle the boy, we have to take things calmly, and find out precisely how much he gave her," said Hank.

"I though you said Oxytocin is going to harm Rogue?" I asked.

"No, Oxytocin, alone, dissolves immediately in the gastrointestinal tract, which is why it's administered intravenously," he answered. "But when combined with tremendous amounts of Misoprostol it can induce labor."

"How the hell would Bobby know how to mix drugs anyway."

"The school has a laboratory Ororo, and he is a chemistry major." Hank clarified.

I didn't want to hear any more. I was practically shaking in my shoes with rage. I tried to free myself from Hank's grasp, but he held my tight, and with good reason. My mood was black like the storm clouds that rolled in, darkening the sky in huge thunder clouds. I finally tore free of his large hand and took a step back. "If you think I'm going to let Bobby get away with this."

"Ororo…" Hank started then turned as the door opened.

Flashing an annoyed look, I watched one of the students, Risty Wilde, carry another stack of papers into my office and place them on my desk. She was a young strangler, a mutant with the ability to shipshape into animals, and like many of the students here she had no place to call home. Uncannily, the girl sported a funky hair style with a purple streak, crazy wardrobe and an attitude to match, which reminded me of Jubilee.

Risty looked between me and Hank, a question blossoming in her eyes. "Is there anything else I can do for you Ms. Munroe?"

"No," I said, turning my back so she wouldn't see how extremely upset I was. "Thank you."

" 'Kay, laters," she said and skipped out of the office.

"Have you any idea where Rogue is?" Hank asked at the soft click of the door closing.

"I…uh, I don't know."

"You don't know. You mean she's not here."

"She went out with John," I said. "She wanted to get away, she was acting moody, so…"

"You let her go out alone."

I whirled around and cast a dark scowl at my old friend. "She's not alone, she's with the father of her _child_, John. And I'm sure she's fine."

Hank stormed across the carpet floor and grabbed me at the shoulders with his huge hands. "Yes, but for how long? We've got to find her and bring her home as soon as possible."

"Right," I nodded. "She has a cell phone. I'll call her and tell her that she and John have to come home."

"Very good, while you're doing that I'll go and have a little talk with Bobby." I froze and gave Hank a bleak look. "Don't worry I won't kill him."

"Not yet I hope."

Just as I was about to pick up the receiver, the phone rang. "Xavier's school for gifted children. John? John what's wrong? John slow down and tell me…you're where? Mount Sinai Hospital? John…how's Rouge…she's going into labor. John calm down. I'll be right there." I slammed the phone down and hustled towards the door, bellowing for Logan. He bounded down the hall nearly knocking over two students.

"Storm, what's wrong?"

I stalked to the foyer, snatching my coat out the closet. "Rogue's at Mount Sinai Hospital!"

"Hospital?" Logan cried in alarm.

"Yes," I said. "John called and said she's going into labor."

"So soon…"

"Her pregnancy is unusual Logan." Exhaling, frustration threatening to consume my entire existence, I grabbed his jacket and tossed it to him. I knew how Logan was when it came to Rogue. Divulging the true reasons to why she was in the hospital would undoubtedly rip the school apart, and Bobby Drake to pieces. I swallowed my anger, marching swiftly to the garage, I handed him the keys. One problem at a time.

--

Amelia Voght's POV:

The graveyard shift had been strenuous, tedious--downright hectic--truly unexpected especially around three a.m. Then again, this was New York City, I wouldn't say the crime capital of the world, but it felt close. With increasing threats against mutants by militants, retaliations, the demand from Congress that there be a national census on the whole mutant population. Tension was as thick as cream cheese spread on the cinnamon bun I habitually ate each morning, or should say seven in the evening when I clocked in.

I wasn't scared per say, cautious, a little worried--I too being a mutant, undisclosed, concealed from the world, and that's how I intended to keep it. My mutation was not dangerous or fantastically great to draw attention, create destruction, yet tell that to people who desired nothing more than our extermination. I was just plain sick, disgusted by this world. In all its ways to present itself united, liberated from the petty, small constraints of skin color, race, religion--the underlying hatred still warred on like the senseless war in the Middle East. I wished to God I could escape, find my own little scenic cottage, secluded away from this ever pressing and growing madness.

I wished I could blot it out.

The howling scream of a eight year child, shocked me back to dead zone of Mount Sinai's emergency room. I glanced around, seeking out the cries, and located a haggard woman rocking a small boy, desperation weathered her flaky skin, and her hair spiraled out in wild frizzes. I let out a soft sigh, thankful to be free of this place in less than forty-five minutes. Wandering the halls, security clearance granting me absolute liberties, I made a quick ascent to the coma ward. I wanted to check on John Doe 43789. I hadn't seen in him in three days. Perhaps it was the weird, unconscious feeling of falling for a man that was completely unaware of my existence. Nevertheless, I would be lying if I didn't agree with what the right portion of my brain was jabbering; he was beautiful.

Admitted four years ago, a freak car accident had rendered this young man of thirty-two or forty-two absolutely comatose. No family, no loving friend, no aid to whisper in his ear, he lay motionless in a secluded wing of the hospital. What made him special? Why did the director of the hospital felt compelled to keep him alive? He was unique. Although he had no brain activity, without the assistance of machines, he lived, breathed, his heart pumped on its own. A medical phenomenon that was being studied by a team of doctors. I entered the room, nodding to the nurse on duty. Hands tucked in my sweater jacket, I strolled to his bed and took a seat.

"Hello, I'm sorry I haven't been here to see you. I've been busy." I smiled placing my palm on top his cold, large hand, wired and tapered to an IV. My eyes breezed over his closed eyes, sorrowful, wondering what color they could be, then lowered to his chin. "Someone gave you a shave I see," I laughed, moving closer and whispered. "Expecting company?"

No response. As expected. I rose and walked to the end of his bed and picked up his clipboard. I read the documentation and set the chart down. "I'll come back tomorrow John, promise. I'll come back everyday until you respond to me."

Departing, I hitched a ride on the elevator to the ground floor. Pandemonium. Nurses raced back and forth. Doctors worked quickly, havoc, and loud talking swallowed the ER. Drawing the strap of my purse higher on my shoulder, I weaved through the madness, not letting anything stop me from reaching the sliding doors.

"Amelia!"

Damn!

I glanced behind my shoulder. A tall, lanky male, mid forties, thinning hair, came out of a private room. "Yeah Peter?"

He waved me over. "I need you in here."

I closed my eyes, exhaling, exhaustion liking me hard. "I've already checked out Peter."

"Clock back in," he said. "I need you in here."

"But…"

"Amelia, I need you, end of discussion," he said bluntly, "so get you're butt in here." He turned and re-entered the exam room. From outside, I noted a young woman wailing on a table, clutching her stomach. Her husband, or so it would appear, was extremely temperamental. He yelled, cursed, struggled against two orderlies who were forcing him out the room. Sighing, I headed to locker room, wrenched off my purse and sweater, thrust them into my locker, and washed up.

"Peter?" I asked once I joined him inside the room. Two RN's scurried about, one applying an IV, while the other placed heart monitor leads on woman's stomach and chest. Faced covered with a mask, I looked down at the woman, whose name given was Marie. She was so young, couldn't be more than twenty-two, if I was certain. She squirmed and tossed beneath the attentive nurses. Her skin was pale, white like freshly fallen snow, which was not a good sign. I noted the cause, she was bleeding immensely from between her legs.

"My…baby…please…save…my baby," the girl cried, rolling her head from side on the table.

"Blood pressure?"

"One fifty over ninety doctor," answered Anne, one the nurses attending the girl.

"Pulse?"

"One hundred."

"Right," he said, "I want her prepped and ready for delivery."

"Peter," I said with a little more determination, hoping to snag the attention of the man that wanted me stay on for another shift.

"Oh, Amelia," he said, removing his stethoscope. "I'm glad you decided to say." He came over and pulled me gently aside.

"Well I couldn't truly say no to the director of the ER," I said flatly. "What's happening?"

"She hemorrhaging, the labs got toxicology analysis on her blood, but this baby has to come out now, it's in a breeched position. Neonatal care is you're specialty Amelia, so I need you by my side."

I glanced back to the young man pacing outside like a caged lion. "Is he her husband?"

Peter shook his head. "Boyfriend, the name's John Allerdyce."

I arched an eyebrow, finding it particularly amusing that the lad's name was John. I watched the increase swell of security and male staff crowd around him. He looked ready to take on the entire hospital just to get inside this room. He loved her and it was to his credit.

"Okay, let me talk to him," I offered, "soothe his frantic nerves."

"I was hoping you would say that." Peter returned to the woman's side. Anne was already propping Marie's legs on the leg rests, while Diane worked to calm her.

"What's happenin'? What's goin' on?" A voice protested angrily when I came out the exam room.

I stared, deep into astonishing blue eyes, cold and electric. They held the haunted pains of a wounded, bitter soul, whose only source of self worth lay in our care. I saw the wet glint of tears he was desperately trying to hold back, but was slowly being released in slow drizzles. "We're doing everything we can for her, but I need you to take a deep breath…"

"Spare me the psycho bullshit…I need to be in there…I need to be with Marie!"

I pressed my hands flat on his chests, stopping his advance into the room, which was not much effort. "The doctor needs to work now, let us talk. When did her contractions start?"

"How the fuck should I know?" he scoffed.

Narrowing my eyes, I shook my head. "There's no need for vulgarity Mr. Allerdyce. We only want to help." I was finally able to coax him into a seat, waving away some of the security and staff. He sat rocking in the chair, fingers twitching. I felt sad for him and touched his shoulder. He raised his eyes, tears streaking down his cheeks. "Think back now," I said softly. "What can you tell me?"

John raked his hand savagely through his brown hair. He was rattled, seriously close to losing his edge. "She was fine this morning," he whimpered. "I swear. She wanted to get out…wanted air…I'm so fuckin' stupid. Why did I say yes?"

"You couldn't have predicted this."

"Really!" He glared at me with bitterness.

"No, these things happen beyond anyone's control."

"She was fine!"

"I know."

He reeled back in disgust, scowling at me as though I were a freak of nature. "How would know! She was fine!"

"Mr. Allerdyce, calm down, please, you not helping you're girlfriend this way." He shot to his feet when Marie's screams became too much for him to bear. "Marie!"

"Amelia, get in here…now!" Peter cried, standing in the door way.

"What is it? Damn it…tell me!" John bellowed, panic-stricken.

I shot to my feet, adjusting my mask. "Stay here!"

"No…no…I want to be in there…I want to know what's goin' on!"

I whirled around, marking two of the staff members that had retaken their places behind him. "Please, Mr. Allerdyce, this is serious, she's suffered extensive blood lost…and…the baby…it's in a breech position." I looked him square in the eyes. "You do know what that is don't you?"

He dropped his head, nodding, sniffing and panting heavily. "I…I…read…the baby books."

"You'll only be in the way, for now." I squeezed his shoulders.

John lifted his eyes, huge tears falling down his face. "She's everything to me," he croaked.

"I know," I smiled, cupping his face. "We're going to do everything to help her." He opened his mouth to speak, however, Peter came sailing out the room, whisking me back inside. By then, Anne and Diane had already drawn the blinds closed, and a few more members of the medical staff had joined us. The table was adjusted so that Marie could sit upright in order to deliver her baby.

She panted heavily, crying out for her boyfriend. Diane reassured her, but she wasn't convinced. "No…ow…please…I need John…he, ugh…has to be here!" Tears swam down her pale cheeks, her hair was drenched in sweat.

"I've turned the baby," Peter told me and I nodded.

"Doctor," Anne exclaimed. "The baby's heart rate is dropping."

"Shit," he muttered. "The umbilical cord must have gotten wrapped around its neck." He took his place on the stool and slipped his hand beneath the blue tarp draped over Marie. "Miss D'Ancanto, listen to me. I need you to push."

"I can't…no," she shook her head. "John, he…ow…god…he needs to be here!"

"I can't allow that," Peter said sternly, "but you have to push or you're baby could die. Now push."

Diane took her place beside her, slipping her arm under Marie, she heaved her up. "Come on honey, this baby can't wait any longer, push!" With great exertion, Marie gathered up her strength, bearing down, throat clamping as she pushed. Marie gripped Diane's hand, squeezing it tight.

"Good," Peter said. "Push!"

"I am pushing asshole…god…uh…ow…John!"

"Right the head is crowning…push…good."

Taking a deep breath, I watched her give one final effort, and the infant slid out into Peter's waiting arms. He quickly handed the child to me and the team of waiting attendants.

"You did good honey," Diane smiled wiping her brow. "Congratulations, it's a boy."

Marie let out a gasp of joy and turned her head to seek out her baby. "What's wrong?" she cried. "Why…why isn't he crying?"

_Come on little one, _my mind raged as I worked to bring life to the infant lying deathly still on the side table. _Breathe for me…please…breathe._

"Why isn't my baby crying?" Marie all but screamed. Doubt crowded my thoughts; the minutes ticking away without any sign of life spiriting the tiny child to move, squeal, kick. "Please save my baby."

Suddenly, a tiny hiccup that sounded like a cough, then a cry erupted from tiny lungs. A vibrant pink color pinched the baby's white skin and he flailed about angrily.

"That's it," I said exhaling in relief. "That's what we want to hear."

Marie cried, tears wetting her already perspired cheeks. "I want to hold him."

"In a moment," I replied. "Anne take him upstairs to the Neo-natal ICU."

"Why? Isn't he alright?"

"Yes. This is routine for babies born in these situations," I said and handed the baby to Anne. "We're going to examine him, clean him, and do some blood work." The young woman appeared distraught, reclining back against the padded table, her eyes never leaving her son. I went over to Peter, standing behind him, while sought to Marie's care.

"You can let her boyfriend in," he said, rising, stripping his gloves off and tossing them into a biohazard waste bin. Walking to the door, I opened it, and waved John inside. He was at Marie's side in a split second, clutching her hand.

"You okay baby?"

"She's had a rough day," said Diane giddily.

"I wasn't talking to you," John growled, drawing a stunned look from the RN.

"Yeah," Marie said weakly, smiling. "Had the baby…a boy."

John grinned happily and whirled around the room. "Where is he?"

"We had to take him upstairs for an examination," Peter said filling a syringe with a sedative then plunging the needle into her IV tube.

"Why?"

"He wasn't breathing at first," I interjected. "But he's going to be fine."

"A boy, Johnny," Marie whispered. "A boy."

He kissed her forehead. "I'm so sorry…I should have been here."

"Hmm," she sighed and tipped her head to the side.

John eyed the syringe and became suspicious. "What's that you're giving her?"

"Something to help her relax," Peter responded, removing the needle. "She's got to rest. We'll be moving her shortly upstairs to a private room."

"I want to see my son," John straightened.

"Later," the doctor dropped the items in a sharp box. "I need you to fill out some forms Mr. Allerdyce, beginning with whether or not you have insurance."

"Let me see my son first then you people can get you're fuckin' money," he snorted. "That's all you care about Dr..."

Peter darkened. "West, Peter West."

"Yeah, whatever."

He glowered at John. He could see the boy was not going to cooperate without reassurance. "Diane?"

"Yes doctor."

"Show this young man the Neo-natal ward."

"Yes sir."

Grandly, she tugged his arm, showing him out the exam room.

"Young punk," Peter hissed.

"Nice Peter," I berated.

He looked my direction. "What? He started it."

--

John's POV:

I was a father. Imagine that. Me? A dad? I could laugh at the thought if I wasn't so terrified, especially after all the shit that just went down. I thought I was going to lose Marie. I really did. Earlier, she had complained of having stomach cramps and feeling nauseous. I thought it was normal till a lady came out the mall's public bathroom screaming her head off, claiming someone had fainted, and was bleeding.

My heart dropped when I saw it was Marie. I didn't know what to do or how to help her. I wanted to kick myself in the nuts. I shouldn't have let her come out. I should have just let her sulk and mope at the mansion. She'd be miserable but she would be alright. Watching the paramedics work on her as we rode in the ambulance was the worst thing I've ever witnessed; I wanted to die. What's worst these pricks wouldn't let me near her once when arrived at the hospital. Hysterical? My ass. If anything I was in control…I think…or don't wish to recall me crying like a six year old girl.

Riding the elevators, I wished to God I could snuff this ditzy nurse off the face of the earth. She chewed my ears off with her squeaky voice. It didn't matter when I told her to shut up the first time. Babies this. Babies that. Will she shut the hell up? I exhaled when the elevator came to a stop. We walked down the hall and came to a large double door. Diane or whatever her name was pressed a button on the intercom. For security she said. Whatever.

After what seemed to be an hour wait, we were granted admittance. The Neo-natal unit was decorated with cute little baby rabbits, elephants, tigers. Color coated and primped to look like baby wonderland. I read a sign plastered on the wall in big blue letters. Mother Goose's Cradle. I wanted to vomit. I couldn't imagine my son residing in this goofy hoopla. I made sure Marie didn't go all out with the cute shit. Diane and I stopped in front of a desk where a nurse sat looking half asleep. She looked at me with dead eyes and asked for my name.

"John Allerdyce," I uttered. "My son just came up here."

"What's his name?" she asked dryly.

"We haven't given him one yet," I said. "But I feeling the name Nathan."

"Sorry," she said. "No baby has arrived here at Mother Goose's Cradle."

My eyebrows came together. "What do you mean? He was born ten minutes ago."

The nurse shook her head, searched the registry. "Sorry no baby has been admitted here."

I felt the heat spread through my body down to my fingertips; anger swallowing me whole. I snapped to Diane; her face was white and eyes were wide. "Where's my son? Where the fuck is my son?"


	15. Chapter XV

**Author's Note****: I should be ashamed that I haven't updated for so long. It's a bad habit and a serious case of writer's block. Sorry. Hope you like the chapter.**

Chapter XV

Mystique's POV:

No diseased human was going to touch my grandson, not now, not ever! After washing the child, rubbing medicated ointment on his navel, and dressing him. I lifted the child and held him close to me. He smelled like heaven.

Like rebirth.

Cradling the baby in my arms, I crept out the room, roughly kicking aside the nurse slowly coming to. I sneered down at the blond as she groaned and passed out again. She was the one who'd brought the child in from the emergency room where Rogue was. Taking her form, I took the long route through the hospital, dodging other nurses busy at work, jumped onto the service elevator, then exited into the parking lot. By now, Nurse Anne had faded, replaced with the image of an average citizen. Keeping the infant concealed underneath my coat, I selected a black Chevy Tahoe, which to my great fortune had a baby seat inside.

Apparently, some dear, loving couple was planning to take their child home. "Well, not today," I cooed, carefully placing him in the car seat. "There you are, nice and cozy." I grinned in delight as he yawned and looked up at me with dazzling blue eyes. "You are you're father's child." Lightly, I ran my hand over his brownish blond hair, and noticed a tiny, white strand popping out from the root. "Hmm, a piece of mommy too."

Starting the engine, I reversed, just in time to see Logan and Storm hurry into hospital. "Always late," I cackled, grinning maliciously, and drove away.

After a good distance, I abandoned the car in a local parking lot, then stopped in a nearby pharmacy to pick up diapers, wipes, infant formula, and all manner of items needed for newborns. Hailing a cab, I gave the driver five hundred dollars if he was willing to take me to Maine. I was in a third disguise by then, and in this economy, he was more than willing to line his pockets.

My grandson squirmed and whimpered. I knew what he was desiring as I shifted him onto my lap and fed him the nutritious supplement that would help him grow healthy and strong. "What a wonder you are," I marveled, staring deep into his eyes. "If you're mother wasn't so stubborn, she could be doing this the natural way," she whispered. I could imagine what Rogue and the X-Men were going through, yet frankly, I didn't want to. There were other reasons why I had taken my grandson away from them. Reasons that had to do with a bastard son by the name of Graydon Creed.

Closing my eyes, I eventually drifted off to sleep. Several hours later, my grandson and I found ourselves in the Maine. I'd forgotten how beautiful the state was this time of year, the flowers were blooming, the air smelled crisp, and the sparkling water of the bay lapped and sloshed on the shore. Finding a phone booth, I held the baby close, while dialing a number I swore I'd never dial again.

I waited, impatiently, but I waited. I stole a look at my grandson, grinning to see his little head was resting comfortably on my shoulder. "Yes," said a imperious voice on the other end.

"Well," I grinned. "Good day to you too."

"Mystique?"

"Who else do you think it is Erik? I don't have much time, so if you would kindly send a boat to pick me up, I would appreciate it."

"You're in Maine?"

I shifted the baby, he fidgeted then fell asleep. "Where else could I go? They're still looking for me you know." And after what I've done, the X-Men would be hot on my ass. "I have something I want to show you."

"If it's worth my time. I do have other matters to conduct." He said, pompously.

"I think it's more than worth you're time."

"Very well, the boat will be there within the hour or so. While you're on the main land, pick me up a bottle of red wine, you know the kind I like."

I slammed the phone down, startling the baby. I hugged him to me, lightly patting him on the back. Erik always treated me as though I were his personal slave and sex toy. I never seemed to mind. Every action and mission was for the good of mutant kind, till he abandoned me in the back of an armored truck bound of a secret government controlled penitentiary. Seemed strange that I was now seeking his aid, but it was to protect Tristan.

It was the name I'd given my grandson. Why? Because I never met a man named Tristan before.

Walking up and down the peer, passing shops and candy stores, I purchased food in a nearby café. After two hours of walking mindlessly throughout the bay area, arms aching from my burdens, I heard my cellphone ring. "Hello?"

"You sent for a boat."

I was stunned by the deep growl on the other end. "Sabretooth?"

Instead of a response, there was a guttural sound, and the line went dead. I stared at the phone in surprise. What was this? Old allies resurrecting; an ex-lover returning to the service of a man leaves his followers for dead in a heartbeat, rather than lend a helping hand. Things were getting interesting. Hurrying to a discreet location known only to members of the Brotherhood, I saw Sabretooth tying off the line to the boat. He looked slightly different. Dressed in dark clothing, a heavy black trench added to his massive bulk. His hair was cut shorter but could still be pulled into a ponytail. His shaggy beard was gone. He could almost pass for a human being, if it weren't for his oversized claws, which would kill an ordinary man in one swipe.

He sniffed out my presence and whirled around. He looked at me with menacing, black eyes. Walking to him, I morphed into my natural form, and cocked his head. "Mystique." His voice was so low, I didn't think I heard him.

"I thought you died," I said, standing on the wooded dock.

He released a rude snort, looking me over, glowering. "That little shit Summers couldn't kill a fucking fly."

"He toasted you good."

He roared and lowered his black eyes. "Got knocked up I see? What's this the third spawn you've unleashed into the world."

"Got to hell," I simmered angrily. "Just help me in the boat." I held Tristan out to him. He stared at my grandson then me as if I lost my mind.

"You're kidding."

"Just hold him so I get into the boat."

He took the baby, holding the boy in outstretched arms. "He's a baby, not a bag of dirty diapers." I remarked critically, taking my grandson away from him, before the brute accidentally dropped him the water. Sabretooth, to my astonishment, set to work in loading the boat with all the baby's goods, then cast off the line. I sat at the back, reclining, allowing the sun to warm my body. The large brute then took his position at the helm and started the boat. The engine roared and the boat started pull away from the dock.

During the whole venture to the island, he asked me no questions, questions I had no desire to answer. It was nearly sunset when we reached the island. A massive fortress chiseled out of rock and stone towered out the earthly foundation. Within the thick layers were girded walls of metal and steel; testimony to Magneto's power. I was shocked to see Multiple Man as he came prancing of the gloomy interior, alongside, another face I couldn't recall. I noted a few other mutants patrolling the grounds, one holding a shot gun, another scaling the a palm tree to gather coconuts.

Like rats abandoning the sinking ship, every mutant had scattered Alcatraz after the fall of Magneto. Now, news of mutants regaining their powers, mutations stronger than ever, it appeared they were seeking out this forbidden fortress. A chance for vengeance, glory, fulfillment of prophetic words of mutant domination, whatever sparked this culmination of mutants, I had to say, Erik had these nitwits eating out his hands. I, for one, would not easily be swayed again.

"Hey blue," Multiple Man grinned a Cheshire cat smile. "Fancy seeing you again. Word around the campfire is that you got de-powered some while back. Left you high and dry in the back of a truck."

I contorted my lips, gleaming yellow eyes at him. "Multiple, how unpleasant to see you. I see Erik is still yanking you're chain."

"Ah, you're not still pissed at him about that are you?"

"Would I be here if I was." I climbed out the boat, cradling Tristan close.

Multiple looked down to spy the baby in my arms, arching a brow. "What's with the kid?"

"That's for me to know and for you never to find out."

"Bitch!" He headed and down towards the shore.

I directed my eyes to Sabretooth. "Be a dear and bring my things inside," I said sweetly, and strutted towards the entrance, not without hearing him bellow out a low roar. I entered, greeted by a familiar chill, and walked down the hall to Erik's private chambers.

"Mystique," he said with a false air of surprise, as I entered the spacious chamber. A fire roaring in a massive fireplace to best away the cold seeping into the fortress.

"Don't act like you didn't know I was coming."

"I didn't think you would." He reclined in his chair and engaged me with inquisitive eyes. "You're grandson I see."

"Tristan."

"You brought him here."

I shifted the babe. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I have a problem…a problem that involves for us all."

--

Erik's POV:

"Young Creed stirring up trouble I see," I countered, watching the grimness set in Mystique's vibrant yellow eyes. With my forefinger, I circled the head of my wineglass, before gripping the chalice, lifting it to my lips. I breathed in the aroma, sipping the fine wine.

"Did you think I would bring Tristan here by other means? I hold you in no respect Erik," Mystique glowered. "But whatever he's planning can not be good for mutants, not to mention, he has designs on the presidency."

"Yes, I've heard the rumors." I eased out of my chair and crossed over to the fireplace, dashing the remaining droplets of wine into the blaze. I turned, monitoring the blue skinned mutant, who was still astonishingly beautiful, and absolutely lethal. I knew I could use her talents, but to gain her trust would not be easy. "Explain to me again how you discovered you daughter, Rogue, was going into labor."

"The cure has it perks." She said adjusting herself on the couch, stroking Tristan's cheeks as he lay bundled on the couch next to her. Starting at the beginning, Mystique related to me the alias she'd conjured. Pretending to be Risty Wilde in order become a student at Xavier's School for the Gifted, just to stay close to her daughter, and how one Wolverine had been unable to sniff out her presence.

I couldn't help but laugh at the fact.

Mystique cocked her head, looking at me questionably. "Please, continue." Playing her part, she stumbled into a conversation Storm was having the Secretary of Mutants, Hank McCoy, and had taken flight to the hospital they had spoken about. "You can shape shift into birds!"

"There are things I could now that will blow you're mind," she purred, stretching like a cat.

I stared mesmerized then blinked, shaking my head. "Come now," I snide. "You're daughter wasn't the only reason why you broke into the mansion, you were trying to steal into Xavier's computer. He's always kept tabs on every mutant hater who might become a possible threat to his _precious_ children. He probably had something on your son."

"There was nothing I could use," she sighed. "Graydon's last known whereabouts is at least five years old. The only clue I have is Friends of Humanity, I believe he's behind the organization causing these terrorist acts against mutants." She rose, pacing my private chamber, throwing a glance my direction. "I know I don't deserve the mother of the year award. Graydon's hatred has everything to do with how I simply abandoned him…and Rogue…but, Erik, he has something up his sleeve, something planned."

"So," I asked. "What do want with me?"

She paused, narrowing her eyes. "Do you have to ask?"

--

Amelia Voght's

"I bet you're thinking I should've been home already," I said, "and you're right." Sighing, I stroked John Doe 43789's head, streaming my fingers into his luxurious dark hair. The strands were wavy and felt like silk. "You won't believe the day I've had…got trapped into working another shift…extra pay, huh? Yeah! This one woman, she almost lost her baby, her boyfriend, John…Ha…like you... he was going crazy, but thank goodness it worked out okay." I looked at the unresponsive figure and let out a breath. "I wish you could talk back." I took his hand and held it. "I know you will."

A hand fell on my shoulder and I turned in fright. I lifted my gaze to a striking brunette; recognizing her, I smiled, and rose. "Dr. McTaggert, I wasn't expecting you and you're staff till tomorrow."

"We caught an earlier flight." She shifted her focus to the man trapped in a coma for four years. "How is he?"

"The same," I admitted with great displeasure. "Unfortunately."

Dr. McTaggert turned my way. "He's lasted this long. Don't give up hope?"

"You make it sound as if I'm in love with he man."

She tipped her head. "Are you?"

"And violate the standards and codes we nurses live by," I quipped, nervously. "It would cost me my career." Nodding her head in understanding, I stood aside to allow the good doctor to examine the comatose patient. I watched as she fanned a light in his eyes, wrote down her findings in a chart, and scrutinized the machine.

"Have they been rotating his body?"

"Every hour on the hour."

"What about vitals?"

"Steady."

Dr. McTaggert scratched her head. "I don't understand. He's almost as healthy as you and I and yet…" Her pager beeped and she plucked it from her waist, reading the numbers. "Will you excuse me? I have to make a call."

"Of course."

I reclaimed my place at John Doe's side, took his hand and held it gently, but was slightly shaken by her words. Love him? Outrageous! How could I possibly love a man who barely knew of my existence? The thought sent a pain to move inside my chest and I felt the sting of tears. I collected myself when Moira returned, wiping away tears that had built up underneath my lashes.

Moira continued to examine the patient. We talked for a while, she was willing to disclose her prognosis, when out of nowhere an intake of breath ensnared our attention. "H-Hello…M-Moira?"

The Doctor gasped and I could hardly contain my horror. Blue eyes fluttered open to stare us in the face. I withdrew, clamping a hand over my mouth, frightened, excited, awed, completely at a lost for words all at the same time.

"Charles." Dr. McTaggert cried.


End file.
